Breathing Air
by flyingnite
Summary: 7th year is starting, and Hermione finds herself without friends and struggling to hide an increasingly burdensome secret. Without her normal routine, she finds herself befriending the Head Boy and his fellow Slytherin, but will these newfound friendships be enough to get her through this difficult year? Eventual Dramione
1. Chapter 1

_Hi Everyone! As is standard I would just like to say that I do not own any of the familiar Harry Potter characters in this story, those all belong to J.K. Rowling._

 _This story has been floating around in my head for a while, starts off a little slow but I promise there is an actual plan and the action will pick up. This story is definitely a Dramione with a healthy dose of Blaise (friendship) thrown in. There's some Ron-bashing and some of the characters are definitely a bit OOC. It is not compliant with HBP or DH, and assumes that Voldemort was defeated near the end of their 6th year after a big battle at the school, though nothing like what happened in the books._

 _This is my first time writing, something that is both nerve-wracking and exciting, so your reviews are very welcome._

 _Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!_

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The movement of the train speeding along the tracks created a gentle rocking sensation, providing a comforting lull for the young woman curled up against the window, gazing at the passing countryside. Her breaths were coming slow and steady, each exhalation resulting in a mushroom of condensation against the cool glass and briefly obscuring her view of the rolling hills and occasional livestock.

1…2…3…4…5…breath in

6…7…8…9…10…breath out

The regular cadence of her breaths was comforting, a recent technique she had learned to help her clear her mind and let go of any unwanted thoughts. And let's face it, these days Hermione Granger had a lot of unwanted thoughts.

Sitting in an empty compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express, Hermione was on her way to start her 7th and final year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As the train moved steadily forward, she couldn't help thinking back to the events of the year before. The past year at school had been full of excitement and danger, with the Order finally defeating Lord Voldemort just a few short weeks before the end of year exams in a heated battle on the grounds of Hogwarts. The Deatheaters' ranks had been compromised thanks to some craftily placed spies, but Hermione had still had to fight fiercely alongside the Order, some older students, and her best friends, Harry and Ron, to eek out a victory. Well, ex-best friends now, she supposed.

With a sigh, Hermione turned away from the window and began rifling through her bag, pulling out a parchment pad and her Muggle pencils. Placing the pad on her lap, she twirled a pencil around her fingers absentmindedly, admonishing herself yet again for letting her thoughts wander back to a certain duo. Despite their triumph over Voldemort, the summer had brought new challenges to the Golden Trio, resulting in Hermione sitting alone on the train while Harry and Ron were off consorting with their fellow Gryffindors. She had caught a glimpse of them when boarding the train, raising her hand tentatively to wave at Ginny, ensconced in Harry's arms, but the glare she received in return was enough motivation to slip quickly to the back of the train, quietly avoiding any further encounters with the fiery redhead.

It was painful thinking back to a year ago, remembering how she and Harry and Ron had spent the journey happily catching up on school gossip, gently teasing Neville and Luna for their fledgling relationship and racing chocolate frogs around the compartment. The two boys had been the foundation of her Hogwarts experience since the beginning of first year, and it was with a sharp pain in her chest that her thoughts leapt forward to what this year would bring without them by her side. If the look on Ginny's face earlier had been any indication, it would seem that she had also lost the support of her best female friend. With increasing anxiety, Hermione wondered what the reaction of her fellow housemates would be, knowing with certainty that the rumors were already spreading around the train like wildfire.

Gripping the pencil firmly in her hand, she set the fine tip against the middle of her parchment and began to lightly trace the outline of a sleeping Crookshanks curled up on the seat across from her. It was hard with the bumping motion of the train, but the distraction was worth the extra effort. Drawing had always been a special passion of hers, something that she picked up as a child spending countless hours in the waiting room of her parents' dental practice. Growing easily bored of the simple children's magazines she instead created small "masterpieces" using a box of crayons and whatever scrap paper she could find in the recycling bin, covering the walls of the small practice with her youthful renditions of zoo animals and the characters from her story books. Now, at 17 years old, what was once a hobby had blossomed into full-blown skill backed by a natural talent. Drawing helped to stabilize her natural inclinations, balancing her voracious ingestion of knowledge with an equal outpouring of artistry, allowing her to keep her sanity over the past six years at Hogwarts. Her favorite style was portraiture, though the ability to perfectly capture a person's face required a lot of practice. Over the years it had been hard to convince her friends to remain still long enough for her to complete a sketch, as her classmates tended to favor more rambunctious ways of letting off steam after a long day of classes. Of course, this year it would be a stroke of luck if any of her classmates agreed to spend any significant amount of time in her presence.

Despite the silence of the compartment, Hermione could practically hear the rumors flying back and forth across the train. The same rumors that had a few weeks earlier led to Ginny's continued anger and silent treatment and Harry's reluctant hiatus of their friendship, taking a cue from his girlfriend. _If they would only let me explain_ , thought Hermione, feeling frustrated tears begin to build behind her eyes. Not wanting to ruin her expensive drawing parchment with splotches of water, she roughly shoved the paper aside and went to lean once more against the window, taking in the slowly setting sun. Unconsciously, she began her slow breathing exercises once again in an attempt to reclaim her feeling of calm.

If she was being honest with herself, she could understand where they were coming from. In the aftermath of that horrible August afternoon, the information that immediately surfaced certainly did not paint her in the best of lights. _But for the love of Merlin_ , she thought in frustration, _why did they insist on taking that sodding git's word over hers, not even giving her a chance to share her side of the story?_ With a sharp movement she banged her head lightly against the glass, relishing the small amount of discomfort as an outlet for her rising ire. It was still too painful to think directly about Ron, about what he had done, about what he had said...

Unbidden, her mind flashed back to that fateful day, remembering the soft, comforting sounds of the Burrow as she climbed the stairs, the shock on her face after she had opened the door, and the stabbing pain in her heart that she felt even now, four weeks later.

Shaking her head she got to her feet, determined to stop reliving the painful memories. The landscape outside her window had grown steadily darker, and she knew it was time to change into her school robes before they arrived at the Hogwarts train station. Returning from the nearby bathroom she quickly folded her Muggle clothes, tucking them neatly into her bag and pulling out a small envelope that she had slipped away against her _Advanced Charms for Seventh Year_ book. Flipping over the envelope, a small gold badge spilled out into her palm, the two letters that so happened to match her own initials glinting briefly in the fading light. As she felt the train beginning to slow, Hermione quickly affixed the badge to her robes and with a deep breath began to gather her things and head towards the exit to the train.

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 _Hope you enjoyed this little teaser - please let me know what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for reading, here's chapter 2!_

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The ride up to the castle from the train station was largely uneventful. Hermione managed to slip into a carriage with a couple of 5th years from Ravenclaw, giving them a polite nod and then continuing to stare out the window as the looming castle walls grew closer. So far she had successfully avoided directly running into anyone from her house, but she knew the respite was brief. In just a few short minutes they would all be gathered in the Great Hall for the start of term Welcome Feast, and as Head Girl this year she would be required to take on an even more active and visible roll amongst the student body.

Reaching down, she ran her thumb over the shiny badge, fiddling idly with the clasp. She thought back to a few months ago, when she had received her Hogwarts letter and been so thrilled to see the Head Girl badge fall out onto the table. While it wasn't much of a surprise —she had been top of her class for six years now—it was still an honor and gave her satisfaction to know that all of her hard work was recognized. Harry and Ron had been happy for her when she told them, flooing over from her parents' house with the news. They had celebrated with a day spent at the lake with the entire Weasley clan, enjoying Mrs. Weasley's delicious picnic fixings, splashing in the water, and basking in the sun. It had been a good day, she recalled. Back before the fainting had begun, and back before _The Afternoon_ , as she had begun thinking about it.

The carriages came to a halt and she stepped out, sparing a small glance for the eerie Thestrals, then followed her fellow students through the castle and making her way towards the Great Hall.

"Ms. Granger!" She heard her name ring out over the babble of chattering students. Looking around, she saw Professor McGonagall beckoning to her from across the throng of black robes. Making her way over to her head of house, Hermione prepared herself to meet her fellow Head Boy and receive her first instructions for her new post.

Upon reaching the professor, Hermione's curiosity as to who had received Head Boy was immediately satisfied. Standing next to Professor McGonagall was none other than Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince extraordinaire. He had grown some over the summer, she noted, reaching a good 6 feet at least and dwarfing her modest 5'3 frame. His hair had darkened some over the years, becoming faintly more honeyed, and recently he had ditched his signature hair gel routine, allowing his textured locks to fall more naturally around his ears and into his eyes. Sparing him only a brief glance, Hermione quickly turned to Professor McGonagall, giving her hand a warm shake and feeling her face break out into her first genuine smile in weeks. The Deputy Headmistress had always been her favorite professor at Hogwarts, and Hermione had the brief sensation of returning home upon taking in McGonagall's classic dark robes and severely pointed hat.

"Congratulations Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, on being selected as Head students this year," McGonagall began, giving them a tight but warm smile. "You are both exceptionally bright students as well as leaders in the Hogwarts community, and I speak for all the professors when I say that we are very proud to have the two of you representing the school this year."

McGonagall continued on, describing their new responsibilities involving management of the student Prefects and planning of school events, but Hermione found her attention quickly wandering to the blonde Slytherin at her side. Giving him a surreptitious glance, she saw that his hands were in his pockets while his stony grey eyes focused on McGonagall with an unreadable air.

 _Draco Malfoy_ , she thought. Figures it would be him that she was stuck with this year. While in her head she had hoped that one of the Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw boys would get the job knowing that neither Ron nor Harry had been selected, in her gut she knew that Malfoy had always been the most likely candidate. His grades had always been just slightly below her own, and as the captain of both the Quidditch and swim teams for Slytherin, it was no question he held a position of leadership in the school. _If only he wasn't such an arse,_ she thought dejectedly with an internal eye roll. Malfoy may have fought on the right side of the war, working with Snape to bring down Voldemort's supporters from the inside, but it was never quite clear to what extent he was rejecting the principles espoused by his father, versus a simple desire for self-preservation. True to form, he had never entirely lost his penchant for tormenting his fellow Gryffindor war-heroes. After Harry and him nearly hexed each other backstage before a Ministry Awards ceremony following the war this past summer, it was clear that there existed in England no parcel of common ground large enough to hold both boys' egos. _Perhaps we should start a new club - 'The Ron Weasley and Harry Potter Hate Me Club'_ , she mused with bitter irony.

Focusing back on her professor, Hermione made a mental note of the location of her new dorm and password, and muttered a quick spell to add a reminder for scheduling the first Prefects meeting to her magically-controlled planner.

"Thank you professor, we won't let you down," she enthused with a quick nod.

"Granger," to her shock, Malfoy had extended his hand in a seeming gesture of goodwill. "Looking forward to working with you this year."

"S-same here, Malfoy, I'll see you after the feast," she stumbled. With a brief thanks to McGonagall, he turned and headed into the dining hall, leaving Hermione to wonder at the boy's surprisingly cordial attitude.

As she made to turn and follow him, McGonagall's voice again held her back. "Ms. Granger, a quick word if I might."

 _Oh no_ , she cringed internally, _can't we just skip this part?_

"As I'm sure you're aware, your parents wrote a letter to myself and Professor Dumbledore over the summer…" she began awkwardly. "We were very sorry to hear the news, but I personally am very glad that you have decided to come back to school this year. If you need any accommodations with your Head Girl duties we are more than willing to find a workable solution."

Staring at her shoes, Hermione simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak over the lump that had become suddenly lodged in her throat. She'd almost prefer to go back to thinking about Ron and Harry over the prospect of continuing this conversation. With a sympathetic grimace, McGonagall continued.

"Madam Pomfrey has been alerted to the situation, as have all of your professors, and she'll be expecting you this evening after the feast to make arrangements." Still unable to make eye contact, Hermione managed to squeak out a small "Thank you, professor," before quickly shuffling past and into the dining hall.

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A wave of noise welcomed her into the dining hall, as friends continued to catch up while waiting for the annual first year sorting to begin. Shuffling quickly to an empty seat near the rear of the Gryffindor bench, Hermione tucked herself in and looked surreptitiously around at the other tables, taking in the many familiar faces.

Despite her subtly, a few of her classmates had noticed her quiet appearance and began whispering in earnest. _Good old Hogwarts rumor mill_ she mumbled under her breath. In an attempt to block out the murmurs building around her, Hermione focused instead on the line of nervous first years now making their way to the front of the hall and waiting to be sorted. She didn't need to hear the whispers in order to know what they were saying - _Hermione Granger - dangerous witch and wielder of Dark Magic._

She could see by the looks on their faces that the rumor of her dark spell casting had thoroughly circulated, judging from the mix of curiosity and fear she caught from the corner of her eye. In spite of her resolution not to seek him out, she found her eyes wandering down the table and catching on the shock of unruly red hair rising above the other students. The immediate heat that crept across her cheeks reminded her that her anger was still very much on the surface and unbidden memories from four weeks prior flooded her brain.

 _FLASHBACK_

 _It was the beginning of August, and what had started as a relaxing and fun-filled summer had quickly taken a turn for Hermione Granger. She had distanced herself from her friends over the past week, remaining semi-isolated in her parents' home in an attempt to sort through the shock they had just received and figure out what it meant for the young witch's future plans. Having exhausted her ability to process the news on her own, Hermione had flooed to the Burrow in search of her boyfriend of the past 5 months._

 _The nervous tension between she and Ron had reached a pinnacle shortly before the final battle with Voldemort and the two had happily embarked on a tentative relationship near the end of their 6th year. It had been awkward at first going from friendship to a relationship, but after Harry had finally succumbed to his long-held feelings for Ginny after the final battle, the foursome had quickly settled into a happy unit of couples. Harry was away at a Quidditch camp, but Hermione knew that Ron would more than likely be sleeping in on this Thursday morning, enjoying his lack of responsibilities for the summer._

 _Dusting herself off from the fireplace, Hermione glanced around at the familiar trappings of the Weasley living room, noting Mrs. Weasley through the window directing the laundry to hang itself up and dry on the line near the back of the Burrow's garden. Taking a deep breath to harden her resolve at the news she needed to share, she turned and headed up the magically supported stairs on her way to Ron's attic room. Hearing some shuffling movement from within, Hermione gave a quick knock and a small "Hey Ron, it's me," before swinging open the door and walking into his room._

 _As usual, the first thing she was hit with was the overwhelmingly orange decor plastered across every available surface of the room and the fierce, moving faces of her boyfriend's favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. The second thing that registered, however, was the horrified look on Ron's face as he scrambled to right himself in the bed, a small pale face trying to hide from behind his arm._

 _"'_ _Mione, what are you doing here?" He managed to sputter out, a red bloom spreading from the tips of his ears and down his chest as the repercussion of her unexpected visit began to register._

 _In the back of her mind, Hermione was able to register a few details of the scene, such as the embarrassed face of her classmate Lavender Brown as she continued her attempts to hide, the obvious lack of clothing worn by both of the bed's occupants, and the two bottles of beer precariously placed on the bedside table. In her shock, it was the relatively unimportant presence of the alcohol that finally jolted her out of her shock and she hardened her mouth into a stiff line to keep from shouting out as she wanted to._

 _"_ _You're drinking at 11 in the morning?" She ground out, knowing it was the only response her brain was currently able to process in the given situation._

 _"_ _Errr no, I mean -" he began to mumble, giving a small, confused glance to the girl still attempting to make herself disappear in the sheet behind him._

 _That one look was enough to snap her out of it, and Hermione clenched her fists as the tight, hot tears began rolling without check down her pale cheeks. "How could you?" She managed to choke out, feeling herself crumple. She had come here with a very important matter to discuss with him, desperate to seek out the comfort of her long-time friend and boyfriend, and instead she catches him naked in bed with her fellow Gryffindor roommate. Suddenly, she thought back to the many times over the summer when Ron had claimed he was hanging out with Fred and George at their joke shop in Diagon Alley, now wondering who exactly it was he had actually been spending his time with._

 _With a cry, she spun back around to face a now panicking Ron, struggling to pull on his boxers without getting trapped in the rumpled sheets. "I trusted you!" she screamed, and without warning she felt a great wave of energy build inside her and come pouring out at the fumbling red head. In shock for the second time in the span of a few seconds, Hermione watched as the powerful ball pulsed out of her and struck Ron square in the chest, immediately causing him to scream out in pain as angry black boils began appearing on his chest and arms. Horrified, she could do nothing more but turn and run down the stairs, barely managing to pronounce her parents' address as the fireplace swept her back to safety._

 _END FLASHBACK_

She had told her parents that she and Ron had had a simple fight, and knowing the doctors' orders that she remain as stress-free as possible they didn't press her on it. She received a vitriolic letter from Ginny later that day informing her that Ron had gone to St. Mungo's for treatment, and although there were no lasting effects from the curse it was clear that her best female friend found it absolutely unforgivable that Hermione had used dark magic on her brother. Whether it had been dark magic or just a regular old curse she wasn't exactly sure, but Hermione found herself not caring overly much what kind of hex her heartbroken mind had unconsciously fired at her cheating ex.

It was clear that Ron had offered up his own version of events, claiming that Hermione had been emotionally deranged all summer and had attacked him out of the blue when she caught him drinking and relaxing in bed that morning. Ginny was well known for her temper, and it would seem that family loyalty ran quite deep as she refused to receive any letters or other correspondence from her former, bushy-haired friend. Harry, albeit in a more rational tone, had seconded Ginny's condemnation upon his return from training, noting his disappointment in her actions and urging her to immediately find a better outlet for her stress.

So far they had ignored all of her attempts at communication and while Hermione was desperate to share her side of the story and make her friends understand, the pounding headache that she got every time she thought about the situation was enough to have her resentfully acknowledge that for the time being, her body was not physically capable of waging that battle.

Glancing quickly around the hall once more, it was clear that the rumors had spread beyond the Gryffindor house, with several Hufflepuffs and even a few Ravenclaws sneaking nervous glances at her as well. _Lovely_ , she thought.

The sorting ceremony concluded quickly, with Hermione mechanically applauding for the ten new Gryffindors joining the house ranks. Looking at the small eleven year olds, it was hard not to bitterly wish that her life could return to the relative simplicity of her first year.

Dumbledore's opening remarks were short and sweet, and before she knew it the feast was drawing to a close without her really registering the delicious cooking of the Hogwarts house elves. After a quick check to make sure that the Prefects were assisting the new first years to find their dorms, she rapidly headed off along the deserted hallways on her way up to the Hospital Wing.

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By this point, Hermione was feeling decidedly exhausted from the events of the day. Her visit to Madam Pomfrey had been blessedly short, though it was still hard to ignore the pitying looks that the medi-witch had utterly failed to hide. After accepting the hefty box of medicinal potions and agreeing to come back for an evaluation every week, she quickly fled back down the halls intent on escaping her increasing desire to cry.

The perk of having her own dorm this year could not have been any more appreciated under the circumstances, regardless of whether she would be sharing it with Malfoy. Upon reaching the unfamiliar portrait on the fourth floor she muttered the password McGonagall had given her earlier and slipped silently inside.

The common room was small but cozy, decorated in a representative blend of the four houses that somehow managed to look good despite the eclectic mix of colors. There was a large fireplace, two couches and several comfortable looking armchairs, as well as a large table and two handsome desks placed near the windows of the far wall, underneath the stairs. Malfoy was nowhere in sight, but following her intuition Hermione chose the right-hand staircase that led up to a landing with three doors. The furthest door was what she assumed (based on the Gryffindor dorm layout) was the Head Boy's room, so with a small knock she pushed open the door on the right to correctly reveal her own accommodations.

In tastefully done Gryffindor colors, her room had the standard four-poster bed, a chest of drawers and small closet. Her trunk and other belongings were resting against the end of the bed on top of a delightfully plush rug, and Hermione smiled to see that Crookshanks had made himself at home in the middle of her bed. Quickly unpacking a few of the more essential items she grabbed her toiletries and returned to the landing, pleased to find that Malfoy was not currently occupying their shared bathroom located between the two rooms. Glancing around enough to take in the beautiful and well-sized shower, bathtub, and other facilities, she finished brushing her teeth and washing her face before trundling back to her room.

The large window offered up a gorgeous view of the Hogwarts grounds, causing her to feel a brief moment of smugness at how posh her new rooms were. Changing quickly into a pair of small boxer shorts and an over-sized t-shirt, she remembered to lay out her potions from Madam Pomfrey before she turned in. She created a neat row out of the seven vials, and with a grimace she grabbed the one marked September 1st and quickly downed it before the bitter liquid had a chance to linger in her mouth. Giving her head a quick shake and sticking out her tongue in disgust, she replaced the vial on her dresser and without another thought crawled into bed and curled around Crookshanks.

She was lucky, and that night Hermione Granger fell asleep after only a few deep breaths.


	3. Chapter 3

_Happy Monday everyone!_

 _This chapter starts getting into Hermione's interactions with her fellow students a bit more, so hopefully it will be a nice break from all of the stuff going on inside her head. Of course there is still a lot of that since this story is really focused on the journey that Hermione is going through and by nature that involves a healthy dose of introspection._

 _Hope you enjoy - and please remember to review!_

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Hermione woke with a start, dazedly registering the loud _thump_ caused from Crookshanks knocking his bag of food off of her trunk and to the ground. _Crap_ , she thought. In her exhaustion from the night before she had forgotten to feed her smooshed-nosed beastie and it looked like hunger had gotten the best of his manners.

With a groan, she threw back her covers and padded over to where the food had spilled out and onto the rug, knowing that she needed to clean things up before he gorged himself on the rich kibbles. A quick wave of her wand restored the food to its proper place while she rustled through her trunk to extract Crookshanks' bowls, placing the two hand-painted dishes gently against the wall by her dresser. She quickly filled them with food and water, idly thinking back to the summer before 2nd year when she had painted the bowls in a swirling, complicated pattern of Gryffindor colors. Most students at Hogwarts chose to rely on the house elves to feed their pets, but Hermione preferred to do so herself, guiltily acknowledging her secret suspicion that cats equated food with love.

A glance at the clock told her it was just barely past six o'clock, but it was doubtful the young witch would be getting any more sleep. She had always been an early riser, and with the unexpected wake up call that morning she knew it would be pointless to try and crawl back under her sheets, despite their tempting warmth. Taking a brief minute to stretch, she began moving around her room to unpack the remainder of her belongings. Knowing she would need her books ready for the start of class at 9:00 she gently arranged them in an efficient pile next to her bag, intending to take them downstairs to her desk.

15 minutes later and her room was spotlessly organized. A glance out the window revealed that the sun was just making its daily appearance, beginning to throw the sweeping grounds of Hogwarts into a delicate relief. Her gaze lingering on the lake, Hermione made a split second decision and was soon rummaging through her drawers once again. Within minutes she had snuck into the bathroom to pull up her hair, and then Hermione was slipping out of her dorm, down the stairs and out the Entrance Hall to the grounds.

Running had never been her first choice in activities.

Being a somewhat clumsy child, she had always found more comfort in books and drawing than in the physical action of sports. She still viewed the forced ritual of physical education in her Muggle schools to be a special kind of torture, but somehow in the past few years running had grown on her. It had begun as a way to train for the war, finding that stamina was key to staying alive and running was the easiest way for her to build that. In 5th year she had started half-heartedly jogging around the interior of the Quidditch pitch while Harry and Ron practiced flying above her, but as her technique improved she discovered, to her delight, that running offered a reliable way to focus her mind. Drawing had always been a good escape from her over-active thoughts, but there was something about running that helped to bring things into sharp relief for the witch. The combination of the thump of her shoes hitting the ground and the blood pounding through her body made it easy to get some perspective.

It had been hard to find the opportunity to run in 6th year under the constant threat of Voldemort and his followers, but Hermione had embraced the sport more fully over the past summer and found that running had become a habit. Particularly in the midst of the mess that had become her life, it was nice to feel that she had control of at least a small part of her body.

Taking a moment to breathe in the fresh morning air she took off at a slow jog towards the lake, steadily building up her speed. The bushy-haired girl knew she must make a funny sight - a young woman in Muggle clothes running in a circle around the lake before the sun had properly risen in the sky. The wizarding world had a few sports beyond the ever-popular Quidditch, but the simple act of running was not a concept that many in the magical community understood. Giving her head a quick shake to clear her thoughts, Hermione focused instead on her upcoming classes, knowing that she would be hard pressed to continue avoiding her former friends today.

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By 8:30 the Great Hall was bustling with students, as many people were eager to receive their class schedules for the year. Returning to her dorm for a quick shower after her run, Hermione had gathered her hefty pile of books and headed off to breakfast, not knowing which classes she would have on her first day.

Nobody liked Mondays, but there was a certain energy of anticipation on the first day, particularly amongst the younger students. Having eaten rather quickly from the nerves, Hermione stood and helped Professor McGonagall to pass around the schedules to the younger students, pairing up first years with some of the older students to make sure they would have help finding their classrooms on the first day.

Finally receiving her own schedule, she noted with a sour expression that Study of Ancient Runes and Astronomy had indeed been removed from her class list this year. She had received a letter from McGonagall a few weeks back informing her of the need to limit her studies this year due to her Head Girl duties, but Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that this was yet another reaction to the news from St. Mungo's.

Knowing it was pointless to argue the issue this morning, she gathered her things and headed out to Greenhouse 5 and Herbology.

Classes passed by quickly that day. She had double Herbology in the morning, followed by an afternoon of Charms and History of Magic. None of the lessons really required Hermione to interact with her fellow students, allowing her welcome room to focus on her studies instead of the drama she could feel bubbling just beneath the surface. Other than a small smile from Harry at the beginning of Charms, the first class they shared, she had received polite indifference from the brunette wizard, a notable improvement over the glares that Parvati was shooting her way. She didn't really understand the vehemence of her former roommate's attitude until dinner that night, when she caught a glimpse of Lavender giggling while Ron pulled her close, whispering in her ear.

 _Don't be surprised_ , she thought fervently. _You knew this was bound to happen, it's_ _been_ _happening all summer._

Knowing how close Lavender and Parvati were, it was no wonder she was getting glares. Parvati obviously bought into the stories about her and was looking to protect her friend's "new" boyfriend from his evil-ex.

The big surprise was Neville.

Professor Snape had been reinstated to his post of Potions-master after Slugghorn left the school last year to return to his preferred state of retirement. Hermione had fought side by side with Snape during the final battle last year, but despite this exercise in trust she had failed to truly crack the hard exterior of her professor and he remained frustratingly unpleasant towards all students not in his own house. She had been dreading her first Potions lessons, knowing that advanced potions required the students to work in partners on virtually all assignments. When Snape instructed the class to choose a partner that they would keep for the remainder of the year, Hermione could have sworn that he smirked at her, leaving her to wonder how in-touch with school gossip he actually was.

Luckily, before she had a chance to resign herself to the humiliation of being the only one without a partner, Neville had approached.

"Hey Hermione, want to partner up? I know I'm not the best at potions…"

"Nonsense, Neville," she cut him off. "You're great at potions, you just need to have confidence." Giving him a sincere smile, she moved her supplies down to make room for him to take the seat next to her. He grinned in reply, sitting down and making himself comfortable. He really had improved a lot in all of his classes the past year, she noted to herself.

Unlike the other Gryffindors who were keeping up their suspicious treatment of her, Neville didn't once mention the elephant in the room, instead asking after her parents and what her new Head dorm was like. By the time the two hours were up and Snape had snarkily declared them all free to leave, Hermione felt that maybe she wasn't completely abandoned after all.

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Slipping back through the portrait hole on Wednesday morning after her now habitual morning run, Hermione was surprised to come face to face with her elusive blonde roommate. Malfoy was sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, fully dressed in his school robes and drinking a cup of tea, flipping through what looked likely to be a magazine on the wonders of Quidditch. She had caught sight of him a few times in the Great Hall for meals as well as in their shared classes, but the two had not spoken a word since their meeting with McGonagall at the start of term. If it wasn't for the handful of items strewn throughout the common room and occasional sounds from his room, Hermione might have forgotten that she even shared the space.

"What in the world are you wearing?" he drawled, lifting his head from his magazine to give her a sweeping glance as she entered the room.

Reminding herself not to rise to the bait, she simply rolled her eyes and moved toward the opposite couch, intent on not losing the calm she had found while on her run.

"Haven't you ever seen Muggle clothes before, Malfoy? You've spent so much time insulting us Muggle-borns over the years, I just assumed you'd learn to recognize our clothing."

Setting his magazine down, he turned towards her more fully and tracked her walk over to the opposite couch, a smirk gently marring his defined features.

"Do all Muggle clothes come all sweaty and rumpled like that, or are you just particularly fashion-forward?"

Feeling a blush steal across her cheeks, she looked down to avoid meeting his gaze, concentrating instead on stretching out her calves. "I was running," she mumbled, hoping to not encourage further comments.

"On purpose?" He seemed genuinely intrigued. "Like, you were just running through the hallways to entertain Peeves?"

Fighting another eye roll, she quickly switched to her other leg. "No, I was running outside, around the Lake."

"Why?" He didn't seem as inclined as she was to end their current conversation.

"You know, for exercise, stress-release, to help myself wake up and get a good start to the day…"

"Do all Muggles run around in circles just for the fun of it?"

"Yes, Malfoy," she replied in a condescending tone. "All us Muggles are stupid creatures who can't tell the difference between a squirrel and a blood-sucking monster so we are constantly running around out of fear that if we pause too long we will get eaten."

Ignoring her clear attempt at sarcasm, he set his magazine to the side and smoothly pulled back one side of his robe. "Speaking of blood-thirsty monsters, is this yours?"

Taken aback, Hermione followed the direction of his gaze to see that, to her utter horror, Crookshanks was curled up in a tight ball and nestled against Malfoy's leg in between the outer folds of his robe.

"I'm so sorry," she squeaked out, mentally cursing Crookshanks for fraternizing with the enemy. She moved forward and quickly scooped up the orange fur ball, ignoring his hiss of protest at being removed from the warm nest he had been so pleased to find.

Now standing in front of Malfoy with a grumpy cat balanced on her hip and her running clothes sticking uncomfortably to her sweaty form, she felt a moment of embarrassment for having let the situation devolve so quickly into snarky comments. Knowing that she had a full year to spend with the annoying blonde, and knowing that things would be infinitely better if they could get along, she steeled herself to take a deep breath and try again.

"This is silly," she began, shifting Crookshanks so that she could hold out her right hand. "Can we start over?" Accepting her hand with a slightly amused face, Malfoy gave it a quick shake and then sat back, giving the seat next to him a small pat before folding his arms across his broad chest. Taking the proffered seat, Hermione sat on the edge of the cushion and dumped Crookshanks back on the ground, watching as he strolled over to make himself comfortable in front of the fire.

"I meant to say it before, but congratulations on getting Head Boy." Despite her initial annoyance at finding out that he would be sharing the job with her, Hermione knew that he had more than earned the spot. The Slytherin boy was wicked smart, though he generally hid it behind a mask of seeming indifference and general antagonism. The few classes that they had shared over the years taught her that the boy was always paying attention even when it appeared otherwise, and his mind was always running a series of calculations that result in precise, effective execution of even the most challenging spells. His recent role in the war had been a surprise to many, particularly to Harry, Ron and herself, and to this day she still wasn't all that sure what had prompted his seeming change of heart.

"Bet you were just thrilled to learn that you'll be living with a snake all year, huh?" He drawled, raising a brow at her.

"Well I thought I'd be mature and not let house rivalries or childish past behavior get in the way of me performing this job," she challenged him sharply, raising her own eyebrow in return. After a beat of silence and quiet appraisal, Malfoy simply nodded. "We have the Prefects meeting coming up tomorrow, what do you say we meet this evening to go over a plan for the meeting and come up with a patrol schedule?"

"Sounds good," he agreed. "Library at 7?" At her nod he gave his neck a brief stretch and moved to stand.

"Well, as fun as this has been I promised Blaise I'd meet him for an early breakfast, and unless you're looking to give the school something else to talk about you should probably hop in the shower…" Seeing the smirk plastered on his face Hermione blushed furiously, not missing his subtle reference to the rumors about her that continued to circle the school.

 _Of course he heard the rumors, Hermione_ , she sighed internally. _You'd have to be deaf, dumb and blind to have missed them at this point_. Without sparing him a second glance she marched over and up the stairs, annoyed that in the end he had indeed succeeded in getting under her skin.

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The next two days moved quickly for Hermione, and she soon found herself standing in front of a room of peers ready to lead her first-ever Prefects meeting. Each house had a male and female Prefect for years 5-7, resulting in 24 total Prefects. When Malfoy and Hermione had made Head student, Blaise Zabini and Myra Snelling, her fellow Gryffindor, had taken their place in the ranks.

Her meeting with Malfoy the prior evening had gone surprisingly well. He had shown up on time and prepared with his own ideas for the Prefects meeting. The discussion had been professional and borderline enjoyable, and she had even helped him with a few Arithmancy problems before they parted ways, he off to the Slytherin common room and she to continue studying in the library. They had also agreed on a few simple rules for their shared living space, though so far Malfoy had surprised her with his cleanliness and general lack of intrusive behavior in the dorm.

Clearing her throat to call everyone to attention, she began the meeting.

"Thank you all for being here, Mr. Malfoy and I are honored to be your Head students for the term and we're excited to get this year off to a good start." As she continued with her opening remarks she let her gaze scan the faces in front of her. Most of the faces wore measured indifference, though Ginny, along with a 5th year Gryffindor and three Ravenclaws were glaring at her in open hostility.

"The name of the game this year is 'Unity'," Malfoy added, taking over at their pre-agreed spot. "Especially in the wake of the recent war, myself, Ms. Granger and the faculty would like to emphasize inter-house cooperation and Prefects will be leading by example."

There were a few mutters heard throughout the room, especially from the Slytherins, but Malfoy didn't pause and didn't acknowledge the grumbling. After sharing their vision for the upcoming year and reviewing the Prefects' responsibilities to the school, they handed out schedules with patrol assignments and called the meeting to a close. Malfoy sauntered naturally over to Blaise and Pansy, leaving Hermione to awkwardly shuffle around papers while avoiding eye contact with her former dorm mates.

Ginny brushed past her in a huff, nothing unexpected there, but when she didn't immediately see Harry follow the feisty redhead she looked up, seeing him standing awkwardly in front of her. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, a gesture she knew from experience meant that he was nervous. Swallowing convulsively to try and alleviate her suddenly dry mouth, she gave him a small smile.

"Hi, Harry."

"Hey," he replied, locking sheepish eyes with her. "Good meeting just now."

Having prayed countless times over the past four weeks that he would talk to her, that he would give her just five minutes to explain her side of what had happened with Ron, she unexpectedly found herself at a loss for words. There were so many things she wanted to say, but knowing this wasn't the time she chose to keep silent instead, waiting for him to make the first move. She kept her lips pressed together, a part of her deep down knowing that if she were to open her mouth there was an equal chance that accusations and anger would come spilling forth. After all, they had been friends for six years and it hurt that he had abandoned her with so little ceremony after everything they had been through together.

Before either one could say anything more, Ginny called him from the hallway.

"Harry, let's go." Her tone brokered no space for disagreement, and without looking back up Hermione felt Harry move to follow his girlfriend out the door.

Trying not to let the interaction throw her off, Hermione walked by herself back to her dorm. A vocal Crookshanks met her at the entrance of the portrait-hole and with her heart lightening a bit she trudged her way to her room to get his dinner. _At least I have one friend_ she thought.

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Friday passed without incident, and before she knew it classes were over for the week. Even with her lighter than average schedule this year Hermione was slightly shocked at the amount of homework assigned, the professors were certainly taking N.E.W.T preparation seriously. Having nothing better to do with her Friday night, Hermione had gone to the library to get a jump-start on her homework, plus there was that special project that she had been looking for time to start.

Hermione had always turned to research in times of trouble, and this year was no different. She might have rid herself of the threat of Voldemort after last year, but the new threat she faced seemed no less dangerous, or less daunting. However, after three failed attempts to get herself to focus on the gigantic magical medical text she had hoisted off the shelf, she reluctantly admitted that perhaps what she needed this evening was a bit of relaxation. She figured there was still time enough that night to make some progress on the drawing of Crookshanks she had started on the train, so packing up her bag she headed back to the Head dorm.

After muttering the password, "Bumbleweed", she swung open the door to see that Malfoy had company this evening.

He and Blaise were happily sprawled over the two couches, Blaise laughing loudly as Malfoy continued a series of animated hand gestures, clearly in the middle of an elaborate and hilarious story. Upon seeing her entrance, both boys stopped what they were doing to look her over.

Even though they had been classmates for the past six years, Blaise was still somewhat of a mystery to Hermione. Despite the boy's unique looks, being dark skinned, bright eyed, and painfully handsome, he had a way of blending in that left Hermione struggling to recall whether they had ever exchanged more than a few words in all this time.

"Long night at the library, Granger?" asked Malfoy, his voice tinged with amusement and a hint of something else. "Trying to make up for lost time after a long summer without your books?"

"Just catching up on some homework, don't mind me," she replied, pointedly refusing to engage and moving to brush past them and up to her room.

"Why don't you join us, Princess?" the deep voice stopped her. _Huh, so that's what Blaise sounded like..._

"Princess?" she questioned, turning back around with a slightly indignant look.

"Yeah, you know, like _The Gryffindor Princess,_ " Malfoy smoothly mocked, managing to show not a hint of shame. Rolling her eyes, she turned back and continued walking to the staircase.

"Wait, it was a serious offer!" the blonde insisted. "We're just blowing off some steam after a full week of classes, might be fun. You can even pretend like it's an assignment on school unity if that makes you feel better - Slytherins and Gryffindors, sharing a drink and making nice…" Turning back once again, Hermione saw for the first time the bottle of Firewhiskey that was out on the table next to two glasses. By the bright look in both boys' eyes it was clear that they had already had a bit to drink, and she was intrigued to note that they both seem very much relaxed and content sitting there on the couches.

"Even the little beast is joining in," Malfoy tried tempting her once more, holding up a smug-looking Crookshanks with a grin. Annoyed once again at the lack of loyalty her cat was showing, she marched over to the boys and grabbed her pet, flopping down none too delicately next to Blaise with a bit of a huff.

"Where'd you get the alcohol?" She questioned, looking first at Malfoy and then at the boy beside her. "You know it's against school rules to-"

"Don't worry so much Princess, it's bad for your health," stated Blaise, flicking his wand to gracefully conjure up another small glass, tipping it up to her in a gesture that was one part offer and one part dare.

His reference to her health had Hermione's mind flashing unwilling to her room upstairs, thinking about the bitter potion awaiting her that evening, the same as it had every other evening this week. It wasn't a hard choice.

Surprising herself just a bit, she leaned forward and grabbed the glass with a slightly false bravado, ignoring Malfoy's smirk as he moved to fill it up with the amber liquid. When all three glasses had been filled they raised them up in a toast.

"Cheers, Granger."


	4. Chapter 4

The burn may have started in her mouth but it didn't stop there, traveling persistently down her esophagus before lodging heavily in her gut and leaving a trail of fire in it's wake. She was too surprised even to cough for the first few seconds after her first sip, sputtering belatedly to life a couple beats later and choking on the few drops that still clung to her throat.

She vaguely registered the harmonized laughter of her companions before a heavy hand came down on her back, thumping a bit of air back into her lungs.

"Didn't know you liked to swallow, Princess," Blaise teased, giving her a lewd wink as he continued pounding on her back, laughing even harder at the horrified expression on her face.

"Don't…call…me…prin…cess," she managed to stutter out between half-hearted coughs, shrugging off his hand as she finally managed to draw in a deep breath.

"Come on Granger, that was a HUGE sip for someone who doesn't drink. It is FIREwhiskey, after all," added Malfoy, smirk still firmly in place. Seeing that he had her attention, he made a show of taking a big gulp of the liquid in his glass, swallowing smoothly and expertly blowing out a small puff of smoke as though he did this everyday. _Maybe he does_ she thought in irritation.

"How do you know I don't drink?" She asked weakly, sounding pathetic even to her own ears. Both boys laughed again, the sound echoing quietly in the small common room and causing her to stick out her lip in a pout. "And I suppose you both are experts, then?" She challenged, even knowing it was obvious that they'd done this more than once.

"We've managed to sneak a drink every now and then," drawled Blaise, downing the rest of the liquor in his cup before moving to refill it once again. "Old Drakey's father always did have exquisite taste in whiskey."

A dark looked crossed Malfoy's face, but it was quickly hidden as he followed the other boy's move and downed the rest of his drink. "Glad the old man was good for something, in the end," he muttered, setting down his glass before leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. Hermione knew Malfoy's father had been locked away for good after the final battle with Voldemort, and though she didn't know any of the details it was clear that this was not a topic up for discussion. Not knowing what to do to ease the suddenly tense atmosphere, she gingerly lifted her cup back to her lips and took a minuscule sip, grimacing.

"No wonder you're always such an ass. I'd be mean too if I'd had my insides burned off by acid on a regular basis," she choked out, feeling her eyes watering even with the smaller dose. Malfoy grinned at her in response, giving her a small salute.

"First rule about drinking, Principessa, is never drink alone," Blaise gestured grandly to himself and Malfoy, "and second is always drink water." With a small flourish of his wand a second set of glasses appeared, and Hermione eagerly gulped down the refreshing liquid.

"You speak Italian?" She asked, pointedly ignoring his continued use of the silly nickname, even if it was in a different language.

"I _am_ Italian, Cara," he replied, scooting closer to her and catching her hand. Before she realized what he was doing he had lifted her hand to his mouth and a set of cool lips were brushing her skin. "Can't you tell," he began, "by all my charm?" he flipped her hand over and placed another kiss against the delicate flesh of her wrist, staring deeply into her eyes the entire time.

Her face flamed and she yanked her hand back as though she'd been burned, suddenly wondering where this guy had been hiding all of his personality over the years. Refusing to make eye contact she heard Malfoy chuckle.

"Stop teasing her, Blaise. Poor girl's going to have an aneurysm."

"Fine, then I think it's high time we toasted," declared Blaise, raising his cup and swirling the liquid inside. "To the last first week of classes!"

"To new roommates and old friends!" declared Malfoy, thrusting his own up into the air.

"To trying new things," suggested Hermione softly, offering her glass up in turn.

"And of course, to being young, hot and single!" stated Blaise, leaping off the couch and performing what was to all appearances a sort of dance, though it was clear the alcohol was beginning to take effect.

Hermione laughed and took another small sip, finding the burn to be slightly more bearable this time around. Taking a moment to enjoy the warmth spreading up through her stomach, she suddenly turned to Malfoy as though just now remembering something important. "Wait! That doesn't apply to you, does it?"

"What Granger, you don't think I'm hot? How you wound me," he mocked gently, giving her a small smirk and resting his hand dramatically on his heart.

"Maybe you're just not her type, Drake," offered Blaise. "Perhaps she prefers her men tall, dark and handsome." The way he was now shimmying would surely be grounds for detention if any of their Professors had been around to witness it.

Rolling her eyes at their antics, Hermione shook her head and quickly clarified. "No, I meant aren't you still dating Pansy Parkinson? I saw you both just yesterday in the Great Hall and she was practically hanging off your arm."

"Eh, we broke up last year, Parkinson's just a bit of a hands-on person is all. We were always better friends than anything else, hard to convince the dear old parents of that though." As he was speaking Malfoy used his wand to manipulate the liquid in his glass, lifting it into the air above his head and curving it into the image of a fierce-looking snake before removing the spell and allowing the whiskey to fall into his open mouth.

Trying not to look too impressed at his easy command of magic, Hermione turned to Blaise once again. "And you? All that 'charm' hasn't managed to snag a young witch yet?"

With a devious smirk Blaise returned to his spot next to the female Gryffindor, draping his arm casually along the back of the couch and crossing his legs on the coffee table. "Why are we wasting time talking about me and Draco here, Princess, when we all know you're the one with the story to tell?"

The blood drained from her face as she realized the situation that she had inadvertently gotten herself into. _Damn trickster boysI_ she seethed. This had obviously been their plan all along, to get her drunk and trick her into sharing the gory details of her breakup. They probably had bets going with the other Slytherins to see what the real story behind the rumors was. Well, she would _not_ be humoring them with the private details, that was for sure. No need to increase her humiliation by having everyone laughing about how she wasn't even good enough to keep her boyfriend from cheating on her.

Logically, she knew that it was in no way her fault that Ron had cheated; however, the combination of the liquor and the long week spent dodging the whispers of her classmates left her feeling thoroughly drained and inadequate.

Sensing that the young woman was on the verge of taking off running, Blaise let his arm fall to Hermione's shoulders, pulling her against his side and giving her a tight squeeze. "Hey now, Hermione. I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me. I just figured, what's drinking without a little therapy mixed in for good measure?"

"Plus, you know, we want to pry." Added Malfoy matter-of-factly. Blaise promptly hit him in the head with a pillow, but not before she caught his grin. Not sensing any outwardly malicious intent, Hermione took a deep breath to steel herself.

"What have you heard?" she asked bluntly. It might be painful, but she needed to know exactly what the student body was saying about her.

Malfoy let out a low whistle. "We've heard lots of things, Granger. Seems you're either a devil or a saint depending on who you ask. You're practically a hero to us Slytherins, even if only half the rumors are true!"

"Is that it then?" she gasped, the two boys' friendly behavior starting to make more sense. "You're being nice to me because you think I attacked Ron?"

"Well, there is the whole enemy of my enemy bit…" Her responding glare had both boys laughing once more. "Nah, Granger. I don't really have anything against you, other than your bookish habits and your damn Gryffindor pride, that is."

"What, have you forgotten I'm a Mudblood then?" She jumped as Malfoy banged his glass hard against the coffee table, sloshing a bit of his drink over the top.

"Don't use that word," he said softly but clearly. His gaze was locked on hers and Hermione found it hard to look away from his eyes, which had become cold and steely.

"Well..." began Blaise, tactfully breaking the tension that had sprung up. "I heard that you locked him in a trunk with a bunch of psychotic spiders because he spilled ink on one of your favorite books."

After a beat Malfoy broke their stare and sat back, picking up his drink once again. "I heard you put a Shrinking hex on his manly bits because he compared your hair to the coat of a Highland Cow."

"I heard you summoned a dragon that tore off his face because you were PMSing," offered Blaise with increasing glee.

"Are you lot serious?! Hermione burst out, shocked at the outlandish rumors. "There isn't a scratch on him!"

"Well, I may have started that last rumor myself," grinned Blaise, looking completely untroubled at Hermione's indignant huff.

"In all seriousness though Granger, the most common story floating around is that you're a 'basket case' who freaked out when you were making out with the Weasel, and you used Dark magic to curse him to within an inch of his life."

Nobody spoke for a full minute, both boys watching as the Gryffindor paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, the sleeping Crookshanks darting out of her way with an angry hiss. Finally, she stopped her marching and swung to face them, clenched hands crossed in front of her and eyes blazing with anger.

"So that's it then, yeah? The whole school believes that Know-it-All Hermione Granger is such a giant prude that she used illegal magic on her boyfriend because he tried to kiss her?"

Seeing that neither boy seemed willing to risk setting her off even further, she flicked her wand to grab Blaise's glass out of his hand and downed the rest of his drink with a sharp motion. The burn of the Firewhiskey stole a bit of her momentum, and with a helpless squeak she plopped down to the floor, clutching her legs to her chest and hugging her knees. Delicately taking her lead but moving slowly so as not to set her off, Blaise laid himself out a few feet away while Malfoy slid to rest his back against the end of the couch, all three teens haphazardly arranged on the plush common room rug.

"To be fair Granger, if the Weasel had tried to kiss ME I would definitely have used Dark magic" teased Malfoy, and Hermione couldn't help the small upturn of her lips at his attempt at a joke.

Taking yet another deep breath, she looked them both in the eye, searching for any signs of insincerity. "Promise you won't tell anyone?" At their nods, she pressed on. "I'm embarrassed to say that that part of the rumor is true. Or at least partly true - he was only in the hospital for a few hours after all, and his PARENTS didn't even find out about it so how close to 'death' could he really have been…" Hearing herself getting off track, she quickly refocused. "Anyway, I don't exactly know what happened. I went over to his house without giving him a heads up, and when I walked in to find him cheating on me I-"

"WHAT?" exploded Malfoy, a mixture of shock and anger marring his handsome face. Holding up a hand to stop him from anymore outbursts, she plunged on.

"I caught him in bed with Lavender Brown, you know, my _roommate_ for the last six years. It was obvious what they had been doing," she scrunched her nose to hide her disgust. "Next thing I knew there was this energy or something building up inside of me and it hit him. I don't know what it was exactly, but it made these ugly looking boils spring-out all over his skin and they clearly hurt him. I couldn't take it so I ran out of there, I found out later he was taken to St. Mungo's to deal with the boils - but that was it, I swear!"

Feeling overwhelmed by her confession she hid her head against her knees, only to feel a warm arm snake around her shoulders and pull her into an awkward half-hug.

"It's okay, Princess," Blaise's voice rumbled a few inches above her head. It took a minute, but hearing his soft words finally broke something inside of Hermione, and she felt tears begin to run down her face as weeks' worth of emotion came pouring out. This had been the first time she told anybody what had really happened that afternoon, the first time she was able to offer up her side of the story, and it was clear that the forced silence had been wearing on her more than she realized.

Struggling to wipe her streaming eyes, she shakily sat up out of Blaise's arm and muttered a quiet spell under her breath. Crookshanks hated when she _accio'ed_ him, but this was a time for extreme measures as she struggled not to sob in front of two Slytherins who before tonight she would have counted as acquaintances at best.

"If that's the case, why in blazes is Potter and the Weaslette taking his side?" Asked Malfoy, his voice betraying his barely-concealed anger.

"They were so angry with me, they didn't even give me a chance to explain my side of things, all they heard was whatever crap lie he fed them," she hiccuped, still with her head buried in orange fur.

"Some friends-" Malfoy began, but seeing that Hermione was on the verge of bursting into tears again, he neatly segued. "So, how are we getting revenge?"

"We?"

"Well we are roommates this year, gotta have each other's backs. Plus, you know, any chance to pick on the Weasel…" She sniffled and gave him a watery smile. "Seriously Granger, that prat wasn't nearly good enough for you, nobody deserves to be treated like that and especially not by their so-called best friend."

"Yeah," added Blaise. "I barely know you and even I can tell that you're waaaaaaaay too good for that tosser."

Not knowing what to say, she simply kept quiet and concentrated on stroking Crookshanks' fur as he purred quietly on her lap. Finally she offered a timid smile— "Thanks guys."

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The rest of the night passed in a blur for Hermione. After the heavy atmosphere from her confession had passed, the three silently agreed to change the subject and instead passed the time gossiping about other students and bemoaning the heavy workload of 7th year.

Blaise outlined his grand yet ridiculous plans for winning a lead role in the drama club's Winter production, while Malfoy got distracted and went off on a rant about the merits of the Slytherin Quidditch team he had lined up for this year. By 2 am they were all passed out unceremoniously on the couch, an empty bottle of Firewhiskey on the table beside them.

When Hermione awoke the next morning it took a moment before the memories came back to her, but when they did she struggled to suppress a groan. What had possessed her to start drinking with two Slytherins? Thank goodness Malfoy had insisted that she stop drinking after her second glass, or else she was sure that the slight headache she had now would have been twenty times worse. Looking at the opposite couch she choked back a giggle, seeing that at some point over the course of the night the two boys had moved closer together and now vaguely resembled a tangled mass of limbs. _Where are my drawing supplies when I need them?_ she thought coyly, almost tempted to take a picture for future blackmailing purposes.

Last night had been a strange experience for her, and she could honestly say that never in a million years would she have predicted that she could pass a pleasant evening in the company of her former-enemy and his best friend - were they former enemies? It was true that so far this year Malfoy had demonstrated a surprising maturity and lack of outward aggression, but she wasn't yet prepared to let these current experiences erase the six years of harassment she had previously endured. Blaise had been a refreshing surprise, though. Where the blonde tended to be taciturn and sarcastic, his counter-part was open, eager and funny. It was apparent that both boys were carrying around sizable egos, but Malfoy wore his cockiness like a protective cloak while Blaise just seemed to exude a natural confidence that colored his every action.

She had been taken aback at the beginning of the evening by his sexual openness, not used to being on the receiving-end of such heavy flirtation and a bit uncomfortable with the casual touches he seemed to be so fond of. Malfoy had finally taken pity on her when Blaise disappeared to use the restroom, assuring her that Blaise was just teasing and that his friend did, in fact, have a strong preference for men.

Deciding to make the most of her weekend now that she had woken up, Hermione grabbed her bag from where it still rested near the foot of the stairs and retreated to her room.

Even having only fallen asleep a few hours ago, it seemed that her brain was inflexible in its insistence that she be a morning person. Knowing she could take a nap later and wanting to take advantage of the peace and quiet, she began her routine of pulling out her running clothes and battling her hair into submission. She felt guilty for a moment when she noticed the still-full vial on her dresser that had been intended for consumption the night before. She had agreed to meet with Madam Pomfrey every Thursday during her afternoon free period, and the nurse had emphasized the importance of remembering to take her doses consistently every day. _Nothing for it now_ she shrugged, but as she downed the potion she made a mental vow to be more diligent in the future. After all, the medicine was no laughing matter.

Fifteen minutes later and she was outside, the fresh air and morning sun doing wonders to clear up the faint pounding in her head. It was a bit later than she normally ran but even so there was no sight of any of the castle's inhabitants just yet, most people choosing to sleep in. Before she knew it she had gone halfway around the lake, feeling the positive energy flowing through her as her body began to warm up. Somehow, even the trees of the Forbidden Forest didn't seem as menacing given the beautiful day.

 _Smack!_

Suddenly Hermione was on the ground, the breath knocked out of her and a giant weight pinning her to the dirt path.

"Fang!" called a booming voice. "No, boy! Get back here!"

Struggling to protect her face from the massive tongue that was eagerly lapping up every inch of her face, Hermione succeeded in shoving back the gigantic dog just as Hagrid arrived by her side, out of breath.

"I'm so sorry Hermione, he was just excited to see ya is all." Helping the girl to her feet he gave her a great big pat on the shoulder, likely attempting to remove a bit of the dirt that she was now dusted in. "We were on our morning rounds when he spotted you, got to teach that dog some obedience."

"It's nice to see you Hagrid" she smiled warmly, quickly healing a small scrape that she discovered on her knee. All of the members of Dumbledore's Army had become quiet adept at basic healing spells over the last year.

"It's good to see you too, lass. Been keeping busy with your classes so far?"

"Unfortunately yes, all of my professors really seem to be in the N.E.W.T. spirit" she mocked good-naturedly. "How have you been? Staying out of trouble?"

"As a matter of fact, things are real good. Now that things 'ave calmed down a bit round here Dumbledore says it's 'igh time I continued my schooling. Properly of course. He has me taking classes with some other adults who need a bit of a refresher. If I do okay I should even get me wand back!"

"Oh Hagrid, that's fantastic!" she cheered, genuinely happy that he was finally getting a chance to learn magic. "Let me know if you ever want someone to practice with, I'd be happy to help out."

"That's real kind Hermione, thank you. I'll have to have you, Harry and Ron out to my cabin for a spot of tea one of these days, that way I can hear all about how things are going."

"Wouldn't that be wonderful" she muttered under her breath, glad that Hagrid didn't notice anything as he had bent down to pet Fang.

"Well I best be off back to my rounds. Say, would you mind if Fang hangs out with you for a bit? I think the poor chap could use some exercise, you can always send him off if he's being a bother."

Eyeing the unnaturally large dog, who came up to just past her head, Hermione wasn't sure that it was such a good idea to have him with her. "Errr, are you sure you don't need him for your rounds?"

"Nah, big lug's just for show." With a small wave Hagrid was loping back towards his cabin, and Hermione was left standing next to the drooling grey beast.

"Well, come on then" she said eventually, tentatively resuming her moderate pace around the lake. She wasn't sure what to expect from the dog, but soon she heard his bounding footsteps as he began following alongside her. While it was a bit disconcerting at first to have a giant animal running next to her, she soon settled into a good pace and realized she didn't mind the company. He even gave her a target to race against when she wanted to push her pace!

Looking out of his bedroom window where he had recently retreated after waking up to Blaise's snores, Malfoy saw the odd sight of a young, busy-haired witch sprinting across the Hogwarts grounds while an absurdly large dog chased after her. Shaking his head at the sight, he quickly stripped off his pants and shirt to crawl into bed for a few more hours sleep. _This new roommate of his was definitely going to keep things interesting._


	5. Chapter 5

Happy Halloween! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the story thus far, it's great to get your feedback!

Hope you all enjoy this next chapter :)

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The chattering, happy voices of her classmates as they went about eating breakfast naturally combined into a pleasant, indecipherable white noise that gave Hermione the perfect concentration boost to finish up the essay she was writing for Transfiguration. She hadn't felt like running that morning when she woke up to a gloomy, threatening sky, so instead she had headed off to the Great Hall early to try and get a bit more homework time before her classes.

It was almost the end of the third week of school, and although the cool treatment from her housemates had persisted, there had developed a mutual and unspoken agreement that each party would tacitly ignore the other. Neville, to borrow a muggle term, had been the only one to 'cross the picket line', making Hermione more grateful than she cared to admit. Being both busy students they didn't always overlap their meal times, but on the occasion when they were both in the Great Hall at the same time he would make a point of sitting next to her, seemingly unconcerned with the reactions of their fellow housemates. In reality, Neville had himself often been a somewhat-outcast amongst the Gryffindors, though his heroics during the war had certainly helped his reputation. Though they had never discussed it directly, it seemed the boy was prepared to offer his friend the benefit of the doubt and either ignore or look past the rumors circulating the school.

Speaking of rumors, Hermione furrowed her brow as she caught sight of the unmistakable form of Blaise Zabini sauntering into the Great Hall surrounded by Malfoy and handful of other Slytherin 7th years. To her consternation, after her alcohol-fueled confession last week Blaise had taken it upon himself to continue spreading the rumor that Hermione was a hormonally-unstable nutcase who could summon dragons at will to attack her enemies. A Hufflepuff third year had even approached her in the halls, saying he had heard she was raising dragons in the Forbidden Forest and was wondering whether or not she'd be willing to let him pet one. She wasn't sure what he had hated more, having five house points deducted or the outraged lecture he received on the dangers of dragon safety before he managed to escape around the corner.

To her knowledge, Malfoy hadn't been a direct participant in the rumor spreading, but he was certainly less than helpful in reigning in his friend. She recalled two days earlier when they had both been studying in their shared common room and she had complained for the umpteenth time that Blaise was being an obnoxious prat.

"Granger," he had finally interrupted her rant. "I know it might not seem this way to you, but Zabini is just showing in his own way that he cares. He's hyping up this ridiculous rumor so that people forget about the other ones and move on with their lives. He's just trying to protect you."

That had brought her complaints to a halt, at least temporarily, leaving her to wonder further at the fascinating social machinations that were so characteristic of those belonging to the green and silver house.

Brought out of her rumination by the arrival of the daily post, Hermione watched as the swarm of owls swept gracefully through the hall to deliver their letters and packages. She was surprised when a speckled brown owl landed in front of her with a thunk, primly extending its leg with a thin letter attached. Quickly untying the letter, she offered up a bit of toast in thanks to the owl who then promptly took off again, leaving a spattering of feathers in its wake.

 _A letter from her parents_! She had sent them a brief note last week to let them know that she had arrived safe and sound and was settling into her classes. It was hard for her parents to communicate with her while she was at school, not being accustomed to the wizarding world's practice of using birds to deliver messages, but the previous summer Hermione had helped them to subscribe to a messaging service for the parents of muggle-borns that would send an owl to their house at pre-arranged times to help them stay in touch with their children.

Eagerly tearing open the envelope she devoured the letter, pleased to learn that everything was going well at home.

Her parents were so proud that they had a witch in the family, and in a weird way Hermione was even more proud that she had muggles as parents. While the magical world had been her home for the past six years, she had lived in the Muggle one for nearly twelve years before that and it remained a big part of who she was. There had always been a handful of classmates, even outside the stuck-up Slytherins, who found her continued incorporation of muggle-related items to be off putting. Even Ron had often poked fun at her for reading muggle books. _Bunch of close-minded arses_ she thought to herself.

Tucking away the letter and her essay, she grabbed a last sip of orange juice before setting off to class, mentally planning out what she would write back to her parents.

Finally making it back to her dorm that evening, she couldn't have been more excited that it was a Friday and she had the whole weekend in front of her. Malfoy would be at a party in the Slytherin common room so she had the whole dorm to herself - not that she usually minded having the blonde around.

After feeding Crookshanks she made her way to the bathroom, intent on taking advantage of her absent roommate. Ten minutes later and she was sinking happily into a warm bubble bath, a luxury she usually only got to enjoy at home. The Prefect's bathroom never quite seemed private enough for full relaxation in her opinion - being Head Girl certainly had its perks.

After a nice hour-long soak she eventually got out and dried off, happy to find that the knots in her neck and upper back had eased a bit with the warm water. Donning a simple outfit of boy shorts and a t-shirt, she made her way to her bedside table and pulled out her drawing pad and pencils. She hadn't had much of a chance to draw so far what with all of her class assignments and Head Girl duties, but she figured that tonight would be the perfect time to make some progress on the portrait of her squished-faced little fur ball. Drawing animals wasn't nearly the same as drawing humans, but it was nice to have a model that enjoyed staying still for a long period of time.

Grabbing her supplies she began heading back down the staircase, a brief sensation of dizziness stealing over her as her foot hit the top step. She had been feeling a touch light headed all week but figured it was just due to long hours spent reading in the library. She gripped the bannister to steady herself, the dizziness disappearing as fast as it had come. Shaking it off, she proceeded down the stairs and to the couches, finding Crookshanks lounging in front of the fire where he had retreated after his evening meal. Settling herself on the floor nearby with her back leaning against one of the couches, she prepared to finish her sketch.

She hadn't gotten very far on the train, and luckily he was in a similar enough position that her initial sketching would still be accurate. The next hour was spent carefully tracing his contours and filling in the minute details of his face and fur. Harry and Ron had always enjoyed teasing her that it looked as though Crookshanks had run face-first into a brick wall, but Hermione secretly loved his unique features. She was pretty adept at sketching him by this point, so the drawing was soon finished and left her at a loss for what to do next. She was enjoying the soothing rhythm of her hand moving across the paper and wasn't yet ready to call it an evening.

Suddenly inspired, she quickly stood up and flipped to a new page, turning to settle down on the couch and giving her a perfect view out of the large picture windows near the desks on the far wall. From this angle she had a good view of the entire common room - she would make a drawing to send to her parents so they could see where she was living this year! She started with a basic outline of the major structures in the room, making sure to clearly delineate the open top floor from the start so that the upper level would appear in proper proportion to the rest of the room.

For the next two hours she methodically worked her way through the drawing, stopping occasionally to pet Crookshanks who at this point had given up on the fire in preference of her lap. It was getting late, becoming harder and harder to stifle her yawns yet Hermione's hand moved in determined strokes, intent on finishing the drawing.

By the time the portrait hole swung open around eleven she was fast asleep, pencil still clutched in her hand.

Seeing the young witch passed out on the couch, the two boys entered the common room silently in an attempt to avoid disturbing her. The Slytherin party had been fun for a while, but after the events of the war Malfoy found himself feeling more and more disconnected from his former dorm-mates. Being forced to join the Death Eaters while somehow also managing to act as a double agent was a lot to handle for a teenage boy, and these days he often found the immature humor of his housemates more than he could handle. Blaise could tell that his friend was getting overwhelmed and suggested that they go and retrieve a textbook that Blaise had forgotten earlier in the Head dorm. Luckily, Pansy had been distracted and they made a clean escape.

Taking in the scene, Malfoy immediately went over and snatched Crookshanks from his place nestled against Hermione's stomach, giving the cat a few well-placed scratches under the chin.

"Really?" Blaise raised an eyebrow, commenting dryly on his friend's odd relationship with the feline.

Grinning in return Malfoy simply plopped himself down on the unoccupied couch. "What? I swear he likes me better, turns out the cat has good taste."

With a dismissive noise, Blaise moved over towards where Hermione continued to sleep unaware, looking questioningly at the notebook that was lying on the ground next to her. "Woah, Drake check this out! Did you know our little princess here can draw?"

Craning his neck to see what Blaise was holding, he was surprised to see a detailed replica of the cat that was now kneading on his lap. He quickly joined his friend in flipping through the various sketches in her notepad, both boys' eyes going wide.

"You think she did all of these?" Malfoy finally muttered after a whole minute of silence.

The notepad was filled with drawings of people and places, many of them recognizable to them. Hermione's Gryffindor classmates featured heavily in the sketches, particularly Harry and Ron, but there were also some of her other classmates, her parents, and the Weasley family. Malfoy lingered on a drawing of Ginny, depicting the girl in a fierce dueling position and he shivered at the recollection of her powerful Bat Boogey hex.

Suddenly Blaise laughed, pulling out a series of sketches showing the various Hogwarts professors. "And here we were thinking she was busy taking notes in class."

"Think we should ask her for this one? We could give it to Snape for his birthday" Malfoy joked, holding up a perfect rendering of his godfather's classic sneer. "He'd probably take away so many points from her that we might actually edge out 'perfect-Potter' this year in the house cup."

"That's a brilliant idea!"

"Really?" Malfoy asked incredulously. Blaise wasn't typically one to care about house rivalries, a trait that had set him a bit apart from the other Slytherins over the years.

"Well, not the Snape thing, but having her do a portrait. Do you think she'd draw me?" He asked eagerly.

Mouth agape like a fish, Malfoy simply shook his head while setting the notepad carefully to the side.

"Come on, she'd be lucky to have such a fine specimen for a model!" he persisted, running his hands provocatively down his chest and waggling his eyebrows.

Not bothering to hide his scoff, Malfoy walked over to his desk to grab the forgotten textbook, shoved it into Blaise's chest and wheeled him toward to the door.

"What's this? Am I being kicked out?" Blaise teased, playfully splaying his arms and legs to prevent himself from being shoved through the portrait hole. A well-placed punch to his gut had him crumpling, the Head Boy finally succeeding in stuffing him through the opening. "See ya tomorrow, D" he managed to wheeze good-naturedly right before the portrait swung shut.

Shaking his head, Malfoy returned to the couch and surreptitiously flipped through a few more of the sketches. His gaze caught on one that appeared to show a scene from one of Gryffindor's Quidditch matches - Potter was laid out on his broom, seemingly racing after the snitch which was shown at the upper lefthand corner of the page. Hermione had captured the emotion of the moment surprisingly well, and he was intrigued by how much the drawing conveyed even though it was stationary. It was unusual in the wizarding world to create non-magical art, and before now he had not even really imagined this was something that muggles were capable of. _Of course, she isn't a muggle_ he reminded himself. Despite the prejudices of his younger self, he had long ago accepted that Hermione was one of the brightest witches of her age.

Deciding that he would be best served getting some sleep, Malfoy set down the drawing pad once again and headed towards the stairs. Before he could head up, he turned back to look at the girl fast asleep on the couch and made a split second decision. Walking back to her, he scooped her up in one smooth motion and set off for her room. She was surprisingly light and her bushy hair, which had pooled against his chest, was softer than he had imagined it to be. _Not that he had spent much time imaging her hair…_ Trying to ignore the strange fluttering in his chest, he quickly entered her room and laid her softly on the bed, pulling a quilt over her to keep her warm.

Making his way back across to his own room, Malfoy smiled at the faint aroma of honey and vanilla that still clung to his robes.

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The next day, Hermione worked on improving her breathing technique as she sprinted around the lake in her usual morning routine. Fang was bounding along next to her, it had become a habit for the large dog to join her most days and she had become used to his oversized presence. Waking up in her bed that morning, Hermione had been unable to remember how she made it back to her room the night before, but figured she must have just stumbled upstairs at one point. She had plans that day to continue working on her outside research project, and she began mentally going through a list of topics that she needed to look up in the library.

Out of nowhere, the ground spun beneath her feet, causing her to drop hard to her knees on the path. Seeing that she was no longer beside him, Fang made an abrupt turn to circle back to her - when he saw that she was clutching her head he gave a sharp bark of concern. Her muscles were shaking slightly but her head had cleared quickly and she managed to lift a hand to give the dog a reassuring pat.

"It's okay boy" she murmured, all the while wondering _what was that?_ Deciding that she had run enough for the day, she flipped around to sit on her butt. Leaning back on her arms she tilted her head back, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath to calm her nerves after that unexpected incident.

"Hey, Granger."

"Jesus Christ!" Hermione screamed and jumped simultaneously, completely taken aback by the unexpected voice. Immediately snapping open her eyes she looked around, mouth falling open when she spotted a very shirtless Malfoy treading water right in front of her.

His pale skin was gleaming in the morning sun, drops of water running down his face and across his broad chest before slipping back into the murky blue water of the lake. As she stared at him, blinking in complete disbelief, he raised a hand to sweep his wet hair out of his eyes and she couldn't stop her gaze from trailing to the sharp bulge of his strong bicep.

Blushing, her brain finally clicked into place when she caught sight of his knowing smirk and pointed look. _Crap! He caught me checking him out. Wait, but what the hell is he doing in the lake?_ Trying to reclaim some dignity she scrambled into a more dignified position and decided to avoid thinking about how she must have looked to him sprawled out on the dirt path.

"What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?" She accused, her voice coming out an octave or two higher than intended.

"Swimming" came the easy reply, and as she watched he leaned back a bit and allowed his feet to float out in front of his body, giving him a relaxed look in stark contrast to Hermione's still flummoxed posture.

"WHY are you swimming? On a Saturday morning? Alone?"

"Funny, I could ask you the same question" he replied.

"I'm not swimming, I'm running" she retorted stupidly, it seemed her brain hadn't yet fully recovered from the shock.

"Is that what you call that?" He gestured to her prone figure. "Looked like you were taking a nap to me." He grinned at seeing the blush steal back onto her face. Over the past three weeks he had learned that it was surprisingly easy to make her blush and it was quickly becoming his newest guilty pleasure.

"I'm—I was just—trying to—but" feeling flustered, she shut her mouth, took a deep breath, and tried again. "I was just taking a break." He raised an eyebrow, but wisely chose not to comment. "You still haven't told me what you're doing out here, or why you decided to scare me half to death."

"Like I said, I'm swimming" he said, doing a quick flip in the water and moving towards her. "As captain of the Slytherin team, I figured I would get out early to work on some drills this morning before practice starts next week." Before she knew it he had reached the edge of the water and walked over to her, laying himself out in the dirt next to her and sprinkling her with drops of water. He lounged back on his elbows, taking care to flex his abs and enjoying her warm blush. _Definitely not shy_ she muttered under her breath, grudgingly conceding that he had no reason to be, his figure was flawless.

His body, which had previously been hidden in the water, was now on full display. He had the strong build of a swimmer with broad shoulders and a chiseled chest that tapered down to six very distinct abs. She had caught herself staring at his butt too many times to count over the last three weeks, but this was the first time she had been able to see his long, toned legs which were peeking out of a loose pair of swim trunks. He looked like the perfect boy next-door, and Hermione felt her mouth go dry as she fully realized just how attractive her new roommate was.

Oblivious to the awkwardness of the situation, Malfoy grabbed a nearby stick and used his wand to launch it in the air causing Fang to go chasing after it. "So," he finally said. "Giving you fair warning, but you might want to avoid Blaise for the next couple of days."

"Why, is he rehearsing for an audition again?" She generally didn't mind when his fellow Slytherin was hanging around their common room, but lately he had taken to rehearsing lines for the Hogwarts' Winter play audition while she and Malfoy did their homework and it was driving her up the walls.

"No," he laughed, "but he did find your drawings last night and now he's determined to ask you to do one of him."

"Oh," said Hermione softly, she hadn't been expecting that. Of course she knew that she left her drawings downstairs the night before, but she hadn't realized that anyone had seen them. "You saw them?"

Sensing her discomfort, Malfoy quickly backtracked. "You fell asleep on the couch and it was laying open next to you…Kinda weird that they don't move or anything, but they're not half bad."

"Why Draco Malfoy, did you just give me a compliment?" She teased, finding a bit of confidence in the knowledge that he had liked her drawings.

He smiled in return. "You know, I think that's the first time in six years that I've heard you say my name. I'm surprised you even know it."

She simply rolled her eyes. "Might say the same of you. Should I start calling you Drakey instead?"

His response was interrupted as Fang ran back up, a different stick protruding from his drooling mouth and dropped it cheerfully at their feet. With a flick of her wand, Hermione sent it flying again in a new direction.

"Okay, so Blaise wants me to do a drawing of him. Why?"

"Who knows, probably just wants another way to stare at himself all day." He was surprised to look over and see her contemplative look. "You're considering it?"

"And why shouldn't I?" She asked defensively. "I actually really love drawing people, but most of the folks here don't like to stay still long enough for me to make a good sketch."

"You like drawing people?" He asked, curious to learn more about this hobby of hers.

"Well, yeah. There's something about the human face, each one is so different and yet similar at the same time, and we can convey a thousand different emotions with just our eyes, not to mention our mouths. I like the challenge of trying to capture that one paper."

"You know Granger, if you wanted an excuse to stare into my eyes for hours all you had to do was ask" He smirked at her, rolling closer to learn his face toward hers and blinking his eyes seductively.

Smirking in turn, she grabbed her wand and before he knew it he had been magically tossed in the air and deposited cleanly in the lake. Completely shocked, he pushed his way to the surface and gaped at the retreating form of the bushy-haired girl who was at this point openly laughing.

"Tell him to stop by this afternoon if he's free!" She called. "And Draco, do look out for the Giant Squid!" With that she turned and jogged back to the castle, leaving him sputtering and unsure of exactly what had just happened.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi guys! Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, it has been a distracting time for us Americans and I found that my attention was pulled away from this story for a bit.

As some of you have noted, there is definitely something up with Hermione - all will definitely be revealed eventually but for now I'll leave you in suspense :)

Hope you enjoy, and thanks to all those who took the time to review!

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Practically running through the castle, Hermione dashed through the halls to the relative safety of her dormitory. She was eager to put some distance in between herself and the strange events that had just taken place at the lake.

She made it through the portrait hole and headed straight to her room, stripping off her running clothes in record time before hopping into the shower. She tried to convince herself that her heated cheeks were simply the result of the hot water and her recent exertion, yet her mind kept straying back to a certain pair of steely grey eyes.

 _It's not my bloody fault that he was walking around half-naked_ she reasoned with herself, thinking back to the way the water had dripped down the sharp planes of his abs. She was only human after all, not to mention a woman, and there was no point in denying that the Slytherin Prince was gorgeous. She just wished that her stomach would stop clenching so deliciously every time he smirked at her.

Despite having shared a bathroom for nearly a month now, they had so far managed to avoid any awkward encounters sans clothing, a feat that she was reasonably proud of. Now, thanks to his unexpected appearance during her morning run, Hermione had a very clear picture of exactly what Draco was hiding beneath his school robes and no amount of scrubbing would force the images to leave her head.

Grabbing her shampoo she began working the gel through her mass of wet curls, her thoughts lingering for a minute on her use of his first name. He had always been 'Malfoy' to her, a symptom of their mutual animosity, but she had found herself slipping a bit over the past couple of weeks. Blaise was constantly referring to him as Drake, or sometimes just D, but Hermione wasn't stupid enough to believe that the prickly blonde would tolerate her use of such a casual nickname. They had certainly been getting along recently, but did that really mean they were mature enough to handle a first name relationship?

Deciding not to waste any more of her precious weekend with silly thoughts, she cut her shower short and focused on dressing quickly before making her way to the Great Hall. Stopping just long enough to grab a few pieces of toast she headed off to the library, intent on furthering her research project.

The smell of the library was always a huge comfort to Hermione, making her feel almost as though she could taste the hundreds of thousands of words tucked away on the shelves. She chose a comfortable table near the back of the potions section knowing that whatever the results of her research were it would likely involve some form of potion-making. Her parents would undoubtedly be upset if they knew what she was up to. They had fought with her after first receiving the news over the summer, insisting that she not waste her energy on single-handedly pursuing experimental treatments. After all, St. Mungo's had an entire department dedicated to pursuing new research in magical maladies and a team was already hard at work on her case. But didn't her parents understand that this was how she processed things? She had always needed books and research to process life's moments, big and small, and this was definitely a big one. _Don't they know I am the smartest witch of my age?_ she thought bitterly. She wasn't just going to sit back and let other people determine her fate. It was an attitude that had helped her and her friends win the wizarding war and she wasn't about to change her approach now.

The hours began to slip past unnoticed as pages of notes piled up steadily next to the stacks of books. She didn't even realize that she had missed lunch until a small form set itself gracefully in the seat across from her, placing a sandwich near her water bottle.

Blinking a bit as she struggled to emerge from the pages of the text, Hermione looked up into the serene eyes of one Luna Lovegood. Slightly shocked at the blonde's sudden appearance, she took a moment to glance at the outrageously colorful shirt and the bracelet made out of what looked to be a magical version of muggle poker chips. She smiled, glad that some things never changed.

"Hi Hermione," the sixth year Ravenclaw began, smiling widely and pushing the sandwich forward. "I figured you'd decide to work through lunch again so I decided to bring you a sandwich from the hall."

"Errrr, thanks Luna." Hermione didn't know where the conversation was going, so she tried to hide her obvious nerves by peeling a piece of lettuce off the sandwich and popping it into her mouth to stall. "How's your school year going so far?"

"Quite wonderfully," Luna answered sincerely, sweeping a strand of hair back behind her ear. "The family of holly sherks that live on the fifth floor had a new litter over the summer, I've been helping to find yellow thread so they can expand their nest."

Nodding politely, Hermione did a quick sweep of her brain to see if she had ever heard of those particular creatures before, but came up short. Luna always had a tendency to experience the world in a way that was wholly unique from her peers. Hermione had come to appreciate that quality even if she didn't fully understand it.

She had been intentionally avoiding her former friend since the school year started, knowing that Luna and Ginny shared many classes and had become close over the past couple of years through their mutual involvement in the DA. Even though she also had a strong history with the Ravenclaw, recent events had taught her not to trust in her longstanding friendships.

"It's weird not having DA meetings, isn't it?" Luna continued, seemingly oblivious to the awkward tension radiating off of the brunette. "It's much harder to find time for friends when we aren't all banded together fighting for our lives, isn't it?"

Luna was usually a very direct and open person, but Hermione could see the tight line of her lips that betrayed her seeming nonchalance. The war had been hard on everyone and nobody had emerged unscathed.

"It was nice when we all got together," Hermione conceded, knowing that the lack of DA meetings was only a minor factor behind her isolation this year.

"Neville and I have received permission to leave school grounds tomorrow afternoon to collect some plant specimens for Professor Sprout. I know you have a lot of work," Luna shot a curious glance at the books covering the table, "but we'd love an extra set of hands."

Surprised by the invitation, Hermione felt her eyebrows shoot up. It wasn't that uncommon for older students to receive permission to conduct outside research for certain classes, but with the threat of Voldemort in previous years all of those activities had been constrained to school grounds. She wouldn't deny that she was excited by the idea of getting outside the castle for a bit.

"You have permission to leave campus?"

"We cleared it with McGonogall and Professor Sprout, they worked with the Ministry to arrange a portkey for us tomorrow at 11. Neville asked if you'd be able to join and Professor McGonogall said that as Head Girl you have special permissions to leave grounds so it's all cleared."

Hermione was shocked — she had special permission to leave school grounds? The deputy headmistress hadn't mentioned anything to her, she would have to ask about the exact parameters of this clearance the next time she saw her head of house. The ability to travel to other places during the school year could really help her in her current research.

"So?" Luna prompted, realizing that her friend had become lost in thought.

"Of course I'll come! Thanks for inviting me Luna, it will be fun to get away from the castle for a bit." She offered up a sincere smile. Even without knowing where they were going or what they would be collecting, she was eager for the opportunity to get away from the stressors of her current environment. "Do I need to bring anything?"

"We have everything ready to go, but be sure to bring some good boots. Mine have a salve rubbed into them to repel Gulping Plimpy's, but you should be okay without that."

Nodding in bemusement, Hermione agreed to meet them the next day behind the Quidditch pitch. Standing to leave, Luna hesitated for a moment before setting a small blue stone down on the table. "My mother gave this to me when I was five. She told me that whenever I felt lost all I had to do was squeeze it and it would give me strength."

Without another word she turned and skipped away through the shelves. Hermione wasn't sure what to make of that strange parting, but her hesitation disappeared when her fingers brushed against the cool stone. It was lumpy and felt rough against her hand, and as she grabbed it the blue color swirled and pulsed. Staring in the direction where her friend had disappeared, she suddenly remembered that she was not the only one who knew what it felt like to be an outcast in her own house.

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Having decided to call it a day on her research project, Hermione gathered up the sandwich and stone Luna had left and made her way back to the Head dorm. Her stomach was definitely protesting the lack of food, and Madam Pince would have a fit if she caught a student eating in her precious library.

"Finally!"

Yelping, Hermione nearly dropped her food coming through the portrait hole. She was unprepared for the enthusiastic greeting as Blaise leapt forward from his place on the couch and began vigorously adjusting the curtains on the large window. Trying to calm her racing heart, she took in the scene before her and deduced that what had begun as a study session had devolved into a game of Exploding Snap as bits of burnt paper still lingered in the air.

Ignoring the mutterings of his friend behind him and moving towards the still-frazzled brunette, Draco smirked and grabbed the sandwich out of Hermione's hand, taking a big bite.

"Hey!" She protested, dropping her bag unceremoniously to the floor and ignoring the books that spilled out.

Holding the sandwich above his head, Draco didn't appear at all bothered by her futile attempts to reclaim her lunch. "I told Blaise here that you agreed to do a portrait-thingie of him, idiot's been bothering me for hours."

She spared a quick glance to see that Blaise was now using his wand to rearrange a couch in front of the window and going methodically through different combinations of pillow arrangements. Rolling her eyes at the boy's antics, she turned back around just in time to see her roommate finishing off the last bite of her sandwich.

"Arggggg!" Recognizing defeat, she flopped to the ground in an undignified heap. "I'm so hungry" she moaned, flinging her hands to cover her face to muffle her exasperated screams.

"I'm impressed Drake," teased Blaise as he finally sauntered over to join them. "You've always had a way with the ladies, but now you have them literally flinging themselves at your feet when they walk through the door."

Glaring at them both through the cracks in her fingers, Hermione led out a decidedly unladylike growl of annoyance.

With his signature grin in place, Blaise reached down a hand and Hermione reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Instead of letting her go, he smoothly tucked her under his arm and ignored her mutterings as he led her over to the newly arranged couch.

"What do you think? Will this do?"

Seeing his eager expression, and remembering her promise from that morning, she let herself evaluate his work. By dragging the couch over to the window he had succeeded in bathing the area in light; despite her feelings of annoyance she was a bit impressed by his forethought.

"The light is good over here, but we might have to play around a bit with your positioning to make sure there's no unwanted shadows." Biting her lip, she surveyed the rest of the common room. "Yes, I think this will do nicely. BUT — that bastard over there stole my lunch. You won't get a single sketch out of me until you fix it."

She crossed her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes in an attempt to convey that she meant business. She had gotten a lot of practice bossing around Harry and Ron over the years, but the two Slytherins were nothing like her former best friends and she wasn't sure how effective her demands would be.

"It's nearly four, just wait until dinner," suggested Draco, secretly enjoying the way her anger made her brown eyes blaze.

"Not happening," retorted Hermione. She was itching to hex him but decided logic was the better weapon in this case. "First of all, YOU ate my sandwich. Second, it will take a while for me to make a good sketch of Blaise so I won't have time to skip off to the dining hall, and third — you owe me."

"I owe you?" He questioned skeptically, allowing his feet to carry him over to to where she was still standing by the couch.

"Yes, you owe me."

"What exactly is it that I owe you for?"

"For scaring me this morning by the lake!" She declared, blushing a bit at the memory of that encounter.

Almost as though he could read her thoughts, Draco smirked. "I seem to recall someone tossing me IN said lake this morning," he countered.

"I wouldn't have had to toss you in the lake if you weren't being so, so…" Unable to find the right words, she settled with jabbing him in the chest with her finger to emphasize her annoyance. Catching her hand and holding it against his chest, Draco teasingly ran his fingers along the sensitive skin of her wrist.

"Come on, you liked it," he murmured cockily, winking and stepping even closer.

Watching as the two head students stared each other down, Blaise decided that he had better interrupt before things escalated. "Well, if you two are quite finished with that little dance of yours, I'm ready for my portrait."

Feeling slightly flustered from their minor confrontation, Hermione managed to pull her eyes and hand away from the infuriating blonde and focus instead on his more charming counterpart.

Immediately, she wished she hadn't.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?!" She gasped, quickly slapping a hand over her eyes.

Though she had only looked at him for a few seconds, it was painfully clear that Blaise had somehow managed to remove all of his clothing during their argument and had arranged himself in a rather provocative manner which left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

"B, that's my bloody couch!" groaned Draco, throwing a pillow at his friend and covering his eyes as well.

"Why are you naked?!" interjected Hermione.

"Draco said you wanted to do a portrait of me!" He stated calmly, delicately arranging the pillow in his lap but making no move to put his clothes back on.

"And how does that involve you taking off your clothes?"

"Isn't that what artists do?" He asked innocently. "I thought you'd appreciate the chance to capture my full glory."

"It's like flipping Titanic, only I'm Leonardo DiCaprio," she muttered under her breath.

"Huh?" came the simultaneous statements of confusion.

Deciding that someone needed to take control of this strange situation, Hermione squared her shoulders and adopted her best 'stern' voice. "Right then, here's what's going to happen. _You_ ," she gestured vaguely towards the couch, "are going to put your clothes back on. All of them. _You_ ," this time catching Draco's eyes, "are going to go get me a sandwich. _I_ am going to go upstairs and grab my drawing supplies and _we_ " she swept her finger in a small circle "agree to never be naked in the common room again."

Not waiting for a response she quickly retreated up the stairs, catching the sound of laugher and a throaty "No promises!" before she disappeared into her room.

By the time she returned Blaise was once again fully dressed and lounging comfortably on the couch. Not wanting to think too much about the earlier scene, she decided that feigned memory loss was the best approach all around. After trying out several arrangements she finally settled on a simple, front-on angle with his arms casually arranged along the back of the couch. They had a brief discussion on what sort of image he was going for, resulting in a devilish grin gracing his flawless face. As soon as she picked up her pencil to begin the portrait hole opened.

"As requested, I come bearing gifts." Draco dropped a heap of food onto the table, then pulled up a chair next to Hermione and held up an exact replica of the sandwich he had hijacked before.

She thanked him and ate a few bites before getting back to the task at hand. She found that the first touch of her pencil to paper always filled her with a sort of energy; it was the anticipation, the thrill of starting a new piece and the pressure to get it right. Taking a deep breath, she slowly began building the outline, advising Blaise to relax his face until she had to start filling in the details.

It was a bit unnerving having Draco looking over her shoulder, she wasn't used to an audience. He was surprisingly silent, only asking an occasional question about her process. As the drawing took on more and more life she began to relax and started sharing a bit about her experience with portraiture.

"As I was telling His Highness over here earlier," she rolled her eyes at Draco, "I really like drawing faces. But each part of the body is pretty unique and it takes practice to properly capture the right bone structure and musculature."

"Who would have guessed that the little Gryffindor bookworm was spending her summers staring at naked men," Draco teased.

"Actually, I've only done one nude before, but it was a woman," she admitted with a slight blush, focusing on sharpening the details of an ear.

"Hot," Blaise leered at her from the couch, giving her a wink when her blush deepened.

"What did you mean earlier when you said this was like the Titanic?" asked Draco, abruptly changing the topic with a small cough.

"Oh, you know. Like the movie." Seeing their twin expressions of confusion, she sighed. "Honestly, why doesn't Dumbledore just require that all students take Muggle Studies?"

"I think my cousin mentioned those once, they are like these special paintings that Muggles have where people dance around and make noise, right?"

"Close," she offered sarcastically at hearing Blaise's description. "You know how you act in plays? Muggles do the same thing, minus the magical effects, and they have a way to capture that performance and watch it whenever they want on a sort of box. Movies are a big form of entertainment, and way to tell stories."

Seeing that they were having a hard time envisioning it, she suddenly got an idea.

"Let's have a movie night!"

She and Harry had found a way in their fifth year of rigging a television to receive electricity at Grimmauld Place to pass the time, and they had secretly indulged in the pastime more than once in the dorms.

"What's that?" Draco questioned.

"Whatever it is, count me in Princess. As long as it means that I'm allowed to move my arms," Blaise groaned, subtly flexing his muscles to find some relief after being immobile for so long.

Seeing as she had practically completed the drawing, she agreed that he could move. Sending a balking Draco back off to the kitchens with instructions to ask the house elves for her usual movie night supplies, she set Blaise the task of clearing a space for her to set up the tv while she put the finishing touches on his portrait.

Overall, she was pretty proud with the outcome. One of his hands was a bit larger than the other but she had done a great job of capturing the spark in his eyes and the warm angles of his face. She left him staring at her handiwork while she went upstairs to search through her things for the old television.

Having reconvened in the common room she set the small device in the space that had been cleared and used her wand to turn it into a large screen. She had a bunch of movies on hand, including Titanic, and used a modified spell to create a magical battery that she linked to her contraband DVD player.

It took a bit of convincing to get Draco to join them on the couch, but luckily Blaise had taken to the idea of a movie night with abundant enthusiasm. A few threats and a tub of popcorn later and the movie was underway.

Titanic had only come out the year before but it had instantly become one of Hermione's favorites. It was exciting, romantic and heart wrenching all at the same time, and it was especially amusing to watch the boys' reaction to it. They had both been completely captivated from the opening scene, their faces slack-jawed and eyes open wide. Blaise nearly forgot that he was on Prefect duty that evening, and they had to practically force him to go on his rounds, promising to pause the movie and wait for his return.

Blaise laughed loudly during the famous scene where Jack draws a naked Rose on her daybed. "I'm definitely going to have to get you drunk so that you will agree to draw me like that," he teased.

"In your dreams," she countered, sticking out her tongue and throwing a handful of chocolate-covered pretzels at him. Draco just shushed them. It was almost cute, she thought, how focused he was on the film. She'd have to remember to tease him about this the next time he made a comment about the inferiority of muggle technology.

The clock struck 11 right as the ship hit the iceberg, and Blaise begrudgingly set off on his second set of rounds for the evening. Not knowing how to kill the time until he returned, Hermione went about tidying up the mess they had made from all the snacks.

"How is it that you have a standing order with the house elves for 'movie night'?" Draco asked casually, moving up behind her and helping to pick up smushed pieces of popcorn. They could have easily used magic to clean up, but sometimes it was nice to do things by hand.

"Harry, Ginny and I would sometimes watch movies in the Gryffindor dorm last year, it was a nice way to forget about the war for a few hours," she shrugged.

"And Ron?" he asked softly, still picking up pieces of food.

Drawing in a sharp breath she met his eyes. They had been having a pleasant evening so far, and while she hadn't read any ill-intentions in his tone it was hard not to be suspicious. His expression never changed under her gaze, so giving a small nod she turned back to her task.

When all the crumbs had been picked up they returned to the couch, snagging Crookshanks along the way.

"So how do muggles come up with these stories?" Draco asked after a few minutes of slightly awkward silence.

"Actually, this story is based on real events," she stated, turning to face him and eagerly slipping into lecture mode. She gave him a brief history of the Titanic, and of the Muggle tradition of fictionalizing historical events. Wizarding authors and playwrights had a tendency to do the same, but she doubted he'd had much experience with extracurricular reading over the past years.

When Blaise still hadn't returned he continued questioning her about the characters, asking with blatant curiosity and a hint of humor whether she had a notebook full of people's hands hidden away somewhere. Laughing, Hermione admitted that she hadn't spent much time working on individual body parts, but that many artists did as a way to practice.

"Let's make a deal then," he proposed. Walking over towards the now depleted pile of snacks, he grabbed two butterbeers and snapped off the lids in a clean, practiced motion.

She accepted the drink, but remained wary about what he was up to. "I don't make deals with snakes."

"Now now, that's no way to demonstrate inter-house unity Ms. Head Girl," he chuckled.

"Fine, what do you want Malfoy?"

"So it's Malfoy again, is it?" he asked, smiling at her cheekily and taking a big gulp of his butterbeer.

"It is when you're being sneaky," she countered, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him a pointed stare.

"Just a simple proposition. I'll agree to be your model so you can practice your drawings, and in exchange, you'll agree to teach me more about muggles."

Shocked didn't even begin to describe what she was feeling. Hermione was sure she must not have heard him correctly. Draco Malfoy, the entitled, stuck up, pureblood elitist and her former sworn enemy was asking her to teach him more about muggle culture. Was she going insane?

Seeing that she was too stunned to answer, Draco attempted to snap her out of it by waving his hand across her face. "Hello? Do we have a deal?"

Swatting away his hand and scrunching her brow, Hermione wasn't ready to give in without knowing more. "Why do you want to learn about muggles?"

"The usual reasons," he drawled. "I'll learn their customs, infiltrate their ranks, take them down from the inside - leaving me to reign supreme, a pureblood hero."

Even knowing that he wasn't serious, a part of her shivered to hear the words coming so casually from his mouth. The war had only just ended, and it still chilled her to be reminded of the vile, blood purist teachings he had been raised on. Did he really have such an extreme change of heart during the war, or had he been out to save his own skin?

Seeing the look on her face, Draco quickly backpedaled.

"Hey," he said quietly, softening his expression and looking her directly in the eye. "I'm just curious. I've never lived with a muggle-born before, obviously, and — well, you, ah — it's just fascinating, is all." Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he ran a hand through his hair and looked away.

Hermione looked down and bit her lip to suppress the grin that was threatening to take over her face. He looked kind of cute when he was being all sheepish like that. She decided to let him off the hook.

"Well, I'm sure Blaise would agree to model for me. What advantage would I have in agreeing to your deal?"

 _Always logical_ he thought with a smirk. "How about, I promise never to get naked in front of you. Unless, of course, you ask me to."

The look he gave her sent heat straight to her cheeks and caused her stomach to clench softly, forcing her to break eye contact and look away. _Was he flirting with her?_ Before she could follow that thought through, the portrait hole swung open and Blaise came barreling in, complaining about the group of fourth years he and the other Prefect had caught trying the charm the blackboards into writing dirty messages in Professor Binns' classroom.

The movie was resumed, and Hermione watched with teary eyes as the screen played out the familiar scenes of terror and desperation as the famous ship sunk into the icy waters of the North Atlantic Ocean. She let out a small sniffle when Rose had to let go of Jack, and Blaise wrapped a friendly arm around her with an sad expression. When the final credits began to roll, both boys let out a sigh.

"That was fantastic!" Blaise shouted, startling her a bit. "How do they make it look so real without magic?" The Slytherins were eager to learn as much as they could about this fascinating new world of movies, and even more eager once they learned that there were more of them. Hermione agreed to put in another one, though it was way past her proverbial bedtime. She went up to her room, took her nightly potion, and returned with _Air Force One_. It had been one of Ron's favorites, but she wasn't going to think about that now.

Both boys remained glued to the screen, but she found herself slowly slipping into sleep. At some point she was vaguely aware of a pair of strong arms lifting her and carrying her up the stairs to her room, but it was too much effort to try and open her eyes. Just as she was about to drift off once more, she heard a familiar voice whisper "So Granger, do we have a deal?"

"Yes," she murmured. "We have a deal."


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Hello awesome readers! Big apologies again for the delay in posting this chapter—I am hoping to get some more written soon but for now wanted to post this slightly-shorter chapter for those of you who have been waiting for an update.

I did a bit of this in previous chapters but definitely playing around a bit with adding in Draco's perspective. While this is a story primarily from Hermione's POV I think the story will really benefit from building out the characters in more than just dialogue. Also, just a friendly reminder that I am taking a healthy dose of liberty with Ms. Rowling's amazing world when it comes to the Hogwart's experience so please keep an open mind.

As a final note, I am toying with the idea of changing the rating of this story to 'M' and eventually, as the story builds, including more explicit scenes. Don't want to drive anyone away from this story if that's not your cup of tea, so if you feel strongly either way please drop me a note!

Enjoy :)

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The morning air had a distinct bite to, and though it was not yet October Draco felt himself shiver as the wind whipped lightly through his hair. He was currently hovering high above the Hogwart's Quidditch pitch taking in a moment of calm before the rest of the Slytherin team was due to show up.

It was nearly 10, but being a Sunday the grounds remained generally deserted. He could see a student here and there and spotted Professor Sprout putzing about the greenhouses, but otherwise there was nothing to detract from his view of the castle. Being so high up gave him a unique view of the grounds, one that very few students ever had the chance to take in. Other than the Quidditch players, people tended not to spend time floating hundreds of feet in the air. Being up in the towers could give you a good view of the grounds and the forest, but you couldn't truly appreciate the full beauty of the castle from inside.

Sighing, he put his broom through a basic warm-up routine to prepare his muscles and test out the air conditions. He wasn't one to fall victim to sentimentalism, but after the events of the war and the loss of his home to Dark Magic he found himself particularly drawn to the powerful, solid presence that the school provided.

The summer had been a difficult one for him. The final battle with the Dark Lord had been brutal, and the panic that had gripped him as he strove to protect himself and his mother during the final stand remained with him every time he closed his eyes. It had taken him until the infamous events at the Ministry at the end of his 5th year before he truly realized how insane the Dark Lord was, and how much power Lucius had given to him. He held no love for Potter or his crazy band of followers, even now he could barely stomach the Gryffindor do-gooders. As he discovered, however, there was a clear line for him between his school yard rivalries and actually seeking to attack or kill his classmates.

Being a Malfoy, however, his fate had been all but decided for him.

By the time he stepped off the train in June that year it was clear that his life was about to change, whether he wanted it to or not. His mother, who had always been beautiful and impeccably dressed, had greeted him with pinched, sallow skin and shaking arms. It was with hidden horror that he learned of their new house guests and the new reality they had forced on his life. Out of favor, out of options, he had taken the Dark Mark before returning to school. It had spared his life and the life of his mother but the memory of the tattoo being burned into his skin and the screams of pain from the helpless muggles who fell victim to the initiation ceremony still haunted him. It would seem that no amount of drinking was enough to erase his memories.

Coming back to school had presented its own set of problems. Temporarily safe from the Death Eaters, Draco still had to contend with unrelenting fear for his mother in addition to surveillance from his fellow Slytherins. It seemed he was the only unlucky teenager who had been inducted into the Dark Lord's inner-circle, but he knew that his friends had their own orders to keep an eye out and report back to their parents. Blaise had been his only lifeline—a friend since childhood and decidedly neutral in the war, the Italian had made his best attempts at grounding the blonde.

It only took a month after the start of term for him to drink himself into a stupor. Luckily it was his godfather who had found him that fateful October evening, drunk and freezing as he blasted apart trees in the Forbidden Forest in his desperate rage. Snape had given him a path out and he had taken it, praying to gods he didn't believe in that he and his mother would survive. It was a daunting task to overcome a lifetime of prejudice, and he would be lying if he said he had completely left behind all of his old ideals. At the end of the day though, it was the first time in his life that Draco Malfoy had been given a choice and that knowledge was enough to fill him with steely determination.

The wind whistled in his ears as he executed a perfect barrel roll weaving between the far goal posts.

He tried to keep his mind focused on the upcoming practice he was leading but it was hard to control his thoughts when he was alone. From the moment he had accepted his mission as a spy and a traitor his life had melted into a teeming sea of stress. It was a wonder he had managed to pass his classes last year. To his immense displeasure he had had to drop off the Quidditch and Swim teams. The exercise would have been a welcome relief but the priorities of his world had narrowed so sharply that there was no room left. Catching sight of Perfect Potter had been torture, and even now the thought of him had his eyes blazing with anger and jealousy. The precious Chosen One, bloody savior of the Wizarding World, and a perfect prat. Draco hated that his boyhood nemesis still managed to cling to his holier-than-thou image. Potter had had a solid support system, a cause he believed in, and a more than healthy dose of sheer, dumb luck. Draco had been alone and in constant mortal danger, while his long-held convictions had taken a run through the proverbial shredder. It was a miracle he had been successful in his tasks.

The Ministry hailed him as a war hero, to the shock of most of his school mates, but the title felt empty. His father was sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life, his home was destroyed, he had seen things far too brutal for any person (let alone a sixteen year old), and his future was suddenly vast and empty.

His mind wandered back to the current year and the very strange situation he had recently found himself in. While he had been more than a little shocked to receive the Head Boy title after his poor performance the year before, it had been no surprise to see that Hermione Granger was made Head Girl. The annoying Muggle-born had been a constant thorn in his side from their first year, and not only due to her unfortunate association with Potty and the Weasel. She was a stubborn know-it-all, teachers' pet, and do-gooder, not to mention entirely brilliant—beating him time and time again for top spot in their class. She had begrudgingly earned his respect in third year when she punched him in the face and he had generally left her alone after that.

He had been prepared to muddle through the year in cold silence and hidden resentment. He had not been prepared for the reality of sharing a common room with her. Perhaps it was due to her falling out with her friends or perhaps it was because they hadn't actually spent much time together before this, but he found himself absurdly fascinated with the Gryffindor. It had been startling to see her effortless transformation from a one-dimensional nuisance to a prominent presence in his life.

He hadn't pictured her as an artist or an athlete, never before seeing beyond her bookish exterior. He found that he actually enjoyed talking with her, her wit was sharp enough to match his own and though their lives had been very different it was comforting to share space with someone who had their own set of demons to contend with. He thought he would have been happy learning that the precious Golden Trio had split up but instead it made him angry to think about how they were treating her. _Where was their loyalty now?_

Being a Malfoy he had a natural dislike for the red-headed clan practically from birth, but even he was shocked to hear Hermione's version of events from the past summer. Didn't the Weasel recognize a fucking good thing when it was right in front of him? Even with his general aversion to Muggle-borns he knew that the bushy-haired witch was ten times too good for the git, even had she been born with no magical powers. Of course, that line of thinking immediately reminded him of the events from the night before.

After returning from bringing a passed out Hermione to her room, Blaise had given him a rather pointed look. A look that Draco choose to ignore. He knew what that look meant, but didn't he have enough on his plate this year already without having to worry about what was or was not happening with his new suite-mate? There were N.E.W.T.S. to study for, teams to captain, and Head Boy duties to attend to. Not to mention figuring out what the bloody hell his future looked like now. And wasn't he _supposed_ to be setting an example for the school, demonstrating inter-house unity and all that crap?

Looking down he saw a few green robes assembling on the pitch with their brooms. Girls, especially Muggle-born former nemeses, were an unnecessary distraction. Nothing in that moment should be taking his focus away from winning the House Cup for Slytherin. As he began his descent back to the ground his eye caught a flash of a Gryffindor scarf and tell-tale bushy hair disappearing behind the Quidditch pitch. He definitely didn't need any distractions.

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"Found one!"

Hermione raised her head at the sound, catching sight of Neville twenty feet above her on the hillside. Seeing that Luna was making her way towards him she quickly refocused on the task at hand. The midday sun was beating on them in earnest and she felt hot and sticky. She tried to use the back of her wrist to move a strand of hair out of her face but ended up leaving a trail of red dirt across her forehead in the process.

Her knees were planted on the ground at an awkward angle. She needed to get low enough to reach the small shrub that was the target of their trip while also avoiding tumbling backwards down the hill. It had been a day of trial and error and each of the three students had streaks of soil dotting their clothing. Biting her lip in focus, Hermione set both her hands at the base of the plant and began a steady upward pattern pressing inwards with her fingers. She had worked with the plant in her fifth year without much trouble, but somehow it was proving much more difficult to coax the wild specimens out of the ground. Despite the extra effort it was a good reminder to her that the lessons she learned in the controlled environment of the classroom were not a perfect substitute for the real thing.

With a slurping noise the shrub finally popped free and she added it to her bucket with a triumphant smirk.

"That makes ten for me!" she called up to her friends. "Want to break for lunch?"

"Give us a few more minutes? Just want to get this big one here out."

Giving a nod in the affirmative Hermione headed back down the hill towards the small camp, being careful to go slowly. The portkey had taken them to a remote wizarding outpost in Brazil where a small research facility had been in operation since the mid-50s. Professor Sprout was a friend of the lead Herbologist on site and had arranged for the Hogwarts students to visit and collect a sample of wild Morknell shrubs from their natural habitat. While she had never been overly interested in Herbology, it was admittedly fascinating to visit an actual field research station. Neville had been overjoyed to meet the two resident Herbologists and she suspected that it wouldn't be long before he was asking them about fellowship opportunities available for after graduation.

Having made it back to the camp she set down her bucket and took a long swig of water from her bottle. It was 11 when they left Hogwarts but due to the time difference it was only 9 when they arrived in the Brazilian rainforest. Though it was only now approaching noon local time she knew that her British stomach would not make it much longer without some food. Luckily, or so it would seem, she had woken up late that morning and hadn't made it to the dining hall until nearly 10:30 for the normal weekend brunch. It wasn't like her to sleep in like that but she chalked it up to the strange events of the night before.

Rolling her eyes, she silently chastised herself for once again letting her thoughts wander to a certain enigmatic blonde Slytherin. Somehow without conscious thought she had begun replacing Harry and Ron with the two snakes, almost by default. In only three weeks they had become a regular part of her school routine, sharing drinks, pleasant conversation, and now even movie nights. Blaise had always been a relatively neutral presence throughout her school saga, but Draco's odd behavior around her this year had completely taken her by surprise. Even more unexpected was her own reaction to the Head Boy, and she blushed as memories of his bare chest assaulted her brain for the hundredth time since their run-in the previous day. And what was with his sudden interest in learning about Muggles? _Did I actually agree to teach him about non-magic stuff in exchange for his modeling services?_ She wasn't entirely convinced that the whole thing wasn't some elaborate dream, and standing in the middle of the tropics certainly didn't help ground her in reality.

Didn't she have enough to deal with this year without worrying about whether her new suite-mate was undergoing a psychotic break? It was true that she didn't know much about Draco beyond the angry persona he was constantly adopting, but his actions during the war didn't automatically erase the years of bullying she had suffered at his hands.

Seeing that Luna and Neville were emerging from the trees she shook her head and set about grabbing their sandwiches, resolved to stop letting herself be so distracted.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thanks for all the reviews everyone! For anyone who hasn't weighed in on a potential rating change feel free to let me know if you have any qualms, otherwise I am tentatively planning on changing this to M down the road._

 _We are definitely learning more and more about Hermione and what's going on with her as this progresses, I promise that all questions will be resolved as the story evolves!_

 _Thanks for reading :)_

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"The salamander eyes are staring at me."

Not bothering to hold back her eye roll, Hermione picked up the shallow bowl and moved the offending ingredient over to her side of the table.

"Did you finish dicing the goosegrass yet? It needs to be added in precisely three minutes or else we are going to lose this consistency." Blaise nodded and daintily handed over his neatly prepared pile, taking care to avoid coming into contact with the slew of less savory substances surrounding their cauldron.

It was the first week in October and as part of the school-wide unity efforts Professor Snape had, with his usual air of restrained contempt, ordered the class to temporarily partner up with a student from a different house for a two-week long project. Being a N.E.W.T.-level course there were a mix of houses and Hermione was a bit surprised when Blaise immediately approached her. The assignment was to take a potion and revise the recipe to either strengthen or change the effects of the original brew, presenting the findings in a joint paper. Hermione was a natural innovator when it came to wand-work and she was excited to begin experimenting with potions as well. She wasn't as excited about her new partner unfortunately.

In the week that had passed since their impromptu movie night she had developed a comfortable friendship with the dark-haired Slytherin. There had been a few startled looks sent her way when he had joined her for breakfast at the Gryffindor table two mornings ago, but she had become generally good at tuning out the rumor-mill. Blaise was a bit of an enigma as she had learned. His charm came as naturally to him as breathing; he was warm and flirtatious with her and had thus far proven to be surprisingly loyal and protective. Yet in class, he had a tendency to project a stoic, almost unaffected demeanor. People recognized him from the Hogwarts drama productions but otherwise he had a tendency to blend in that was in stark contrast to his exotic good looks.

She had never had the opportunity to work with him in class before and was now wondering how exactly it was that he had made it into the advanced Potions class. It was clear that he was decently smart, much more so than Ron and even Harry had been, but he lacked the sharp intellectual curiosity and passion that Hermione herself embraced. At least when it came to potions. He had proven to be acceptable so far, carrying out each task with precision but not really providing her with a satisfactory partner to bounce ideas off of. Unlike other Slytherin boys she knew...

Subtly glancing over her shoulder she caught a brief glimpse of bright, honey-blonde hair. It was easy to spot him amongst the general gloom of the dungeons, the combination of his hair and pale skin acting as a beacon. Not wanting to get caught staring, she turned her attention back to stirring the pale green potion.

"Do we need anything from the storeroom?" Blaise asked nonchalantly. "I could have sworn I grabbed everything, but you keep glancing back there like there's something you _want_." He leaned his hip against the table and gave her a minuscule, knowing smirk.

Her answering glare was enough to bring forth a full-blown grin to his face. "Shut up." Her tone was petulant. "And hand me our notes from last class."

Blaise was no fool, and she knew it had not escaped his notice that she was avoiding Draco. It hadn't been a conscious decision on her part, rather a series of cowardly choices that had soon developed into a pattern. After returning from the Herbology excursion on Sunday she had intentionally hidden away in her room. She told herself that she needed the peace and quiet to do her homework but really she just wasn't ready to face her roommate.

It was surprisingly, really, how well they seemed to get along. She wondered that if it were not for his prejudices and her blood status whether they might even have been friends from day one. Just thinking about what Ron's reaction would be to such a friendship filled her with a vengeful sense of satisfaction, but even that wasn't enough motivation to overcome her nerves. She knew she was being a tad ridiculous but her routine had been thrown so far off this year, and she was facing so much opposition from the other students, that it was disappointingly easy for her to retreat.

Class was over much sooner than she had expected and they still hadn't made much progress on changing the effects of their assigned potion. "Want to meet up tomorrow to finish our research? I know it's a Saturday but best to get this out of the way sooner rather than later, don't you think?"

"How about a compromise, Princess," Blaise, per usual, ignored her sigh of exasperation brought on by the nickname. "We can study, but only if we do it outdoors."

"Allergic to the library?" she mused, packing away her books.

"Not all of us get our rocks off smelling the books," he countered smoothly, winking. Her indignant reply was cut off as he stood and joined Draco and Theodore Nott as they headed off to their next class.

She counted to ten and reminded herself that she would only end up looking like a lunatic if she chased after him to argue. The library was a haven to her at school, but she supposed it wouldn't be the end of the world if she spent a few hours working with Blaise outdoors. She could always return to the library afterwards to finish the bulk of the work. In fact, she could head there now and get some work done before dinner and her rounds later that evening.

In a stroke of genius nee cowardice she had strategically volunteered to take Friday night rounds this week. What better way to continue avoiding Draco and her own feelings of confusion than by roaming the castle looking for troublemakers? She was signed up to patrol with Ernie McMillan from Hufflepuff and was eager to chat with him about all the things he was studying in Ancient Runes. It still made her frustrated to think about how she had been forced to drop the class this year but hopefully talking to Ernie would help alleviate those feelings.

She hid out in the library until dinner and then after a speedy meal was able to sneak back to the Heads' common room without having to engage with anyone. Her first set of rounds weren't until 8:00 so she decided to use her free hour to do her usual sketching. It was risky to go out onto the shared balcony since it meant that she might run into Draco, but she figured that since she hadn't yet seen him out there it was a safe enough bet.

She made decent progress on her sketch, and ten minutes before 8:00 she decided she better hurry if she was going to meet Ernie on time so she stood up to return to her room. She was assaulted by the sudden rush of dizziness that had become alarmingly common, and without warning her legs crumpled beneath her. It felt as though she was at serious risk of throwing up, an unwelcome addition to the routine. She focused on her breathing, willing the feeling to pass. _Just breathe the air in, breathe the air out_. She let her thoughts focus down until she was concentrating just on the feeling of the oxygen expanding her lungs, blocking out everything else. A minute later her body had calmed and she felt strong enough to stand despite the lingering tremors. Shaking it off she rushed to her room to deposit her notebook and then rushed down the stairs.

She had a hand on the portrait door before the voice stopped her.

"7:56. The ruggedly handsome adventurer spots the elusive bookworm in its native habitat. Frizzy hair, short nails, Gryffindor tie askew—this is certainly a sighting for the history books."

She begrudgingly turned to face the Head Boy, silently cursing herself for not noticing him sooner. "Malfoy, not a single thing about you could even remotely be described as 'rugged'". Of course, he was the living embodiment of _handsome,_ casually lounging in a love-seat by the fire with his tie undone and shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal hard pecs covered by a soft grey t-shirt underneath.

"You're avoiding me." It wasn't a question but a statement. She was a bit taken aback at the serious look in his eyes, hard and unblinking as they focused on her.

"That's ridiculous, I'm just in a hurry to meet Ernie for rounds. I don't want to keep him waiting." Even to her own ears her voice sounded laden with guilt.

"So you haven't been avoiding me all week?" he pressed, sitting forward and holding her gaze, unblinking.

"Of course not, why would I be avoiding you?" She forced herself not to look away, willing her body and her rampaging hormones not to betray her.

After a few beats he finally gave a nod, seemingly accepting her claim of innocence. Hermione gave an internal sigh of relief and began once again moving towards the door before his voice stopped her a second time.

"You won't mind then that Ernie switched patrols with me tonight. Something about wanting to celebrate an anniversary with his girlfriend or some rubbish." She didn't need to turn around to know he was smirking, his voice was virtually dripping in triumph at having cornered her.

Sputtering to come up with an appropriate response all she could do was watch as he stood, righted his shirt and tie and walked over towards her to hold open the door.

"Shall we?" he offered, extending his hand in invitation for her to proceed.

Neither teenager said a word as the pair made their way to the stairs and down to the entrance hall. For Hermione the time was spent mentally berating herself for getting backed into a corner. She should have known that Draco, like any true Slytherin, would use trickery to force a confrontation from her. He appeared to be completely unperturbed by the glares she periodically shot him, and was in fact whistling a soft tune under his breath as they walked.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs she automatically led the way on her typical patrol path. The Prefects were all instructed to come up with a unique routine in the hopes of reducing the possibility of students learning the timing of patrols. She expected him to complain about having to follow her route, but surprisingly he followed without protest.

"So," he began casually, "are we going to talk about why it is you're avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you Malfoy!" she hissed, drawing a few strange looks from a group of younger Gryffindors playing a game in the courtyard. She gave the students a short reminder that curfew was in half an hour. Draco simply ignored them.

"Is that what you call that performance you gave last night?" he asked sarcastically. "We were leading the same meeting and you didn't make eye contact with me even once. I'm surprised you didn't break an ankle running out of the classroom."

She grimaced a bit thinking back to the Prefects meeting they had held on Thursday night. It had been quite the challenge to avoid interacting with both Draco and Ginny in such close quarters, and she had caught Blaise outright laughing at her as she bolted away the second the meeting had ended.

"Let's not forget the way you seem to disappear every time I enter the dining hall or the library. You haven't said one word to me since last Saturday, which is quite impressive considering we share three classes, a common room, and a _bathroom_." With a start she felt him reach out and gently grab her arm, pulling her to a stop in the middle of the corridor and turning her to face him.

"Hermione." His voice was suddenly soft and serious. She bit her lip, not liking the way his gaze seemed to freeze her in place. Unspoken but clear as day was the question - _What did I do?_ What explanation could she offer him when she couldn't even make sense of her own behavior? Here she was in her last year of Hogwarts after defeating Voldemort, hardly any of her friends were talking to her, Madam Pomfrey was growing increasingly worried at their weekly meetings… Which was more difficult— befriending her old enemy or keeping up a campaign of avoidance? Unfortunately, it was hard to tell when it came to Draco Malfoy.

They were succumbing to the natural evolution of spending time together, nothing wrong with that. In fact, wasn't that what the war had been all about? Fighting for equality and unity? It didn't take her long to come to a decision and she felt a bit silly for having been acting so childishly. She turned and continued walking down the corridor, throwing him a knowing and unintentionally sultry smile over her shoulder. "I think that's the first time you've ever said my name."

She hoped that would be enough to avoid having to talk about it any further and luckily he seemed to agree, following after her with a small grin.

"Should I start calling you 'Mia' instead?" he offered mockingly, reminding her of a similar conversation they had had the week before when she threatened to start calling him 'Drakey'. "You seem pretty friendly with Blaise these days, perhaps you only respond to people calling you _Princess_?"

"Ugh," he laughed at her drawn-out groan of exasperation. "How do I break him of that habit?"

"Good luck deterring him. Blaise has pretty much always done whatever he wants to."

"Like you?" she countered teasingly, thinking of all the times over the years she had squared off against the privileged blonde. She immediately wished she could take it back upon seeing the look that stole over his face. "I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me," she murmured apologetically. How could she have been so stupid as to forget the decisions he'd had to make during the war?

Though his lips were pinched into a hard line he only shrugged. They had made it to the second floor by now and she watched as he wandered over to a suit of armor. His impressive frame stood a bit above the top of the helmet and she found herself unconsciously moving toward him, somehow wanting to wrap her arms around him to stave off the memories hanging tangibly in the air around him.

"Funny to think how intimidating these used to look." His voice was controlled but not unwelcoming, successfully breaking the tension. "The Halloween during first year a group of upper-class Slytherins charmed a bunch of these to jump out and chase us. I tried to play it cool, but I had nightmares for months afterwards." Hermione smiled at the story, intrigued at the idea of what Draco's experience at Hogwarts had been like.

"Harry, Ron and I battled a troll that first Halloween, in the girls' bathroom. They saved my life." The memory was slightly bittersweet now but it was still amusing to think back all those years. Of course, the horrified look on Draco's face wasn't bad either. "Funny how much has changed," she murmured softly as they continued on. She pointedly refused to indulge his curiosity.

"Yeah, it's weird being seventeen now and seeing how young all the first years look," he agreed, unconsciously matching his steps to hers.

"Actually, I'm eighteen." His eyebrows rose in surprise, wracking his brain for when her birthday might have been.

"My birthday was a few weeks back," she offered, accurately deducing his mental exercise. "If I had been born just a few weeks earlier I would have been part of the class above ours, and then maybe I never would have befriended Harry, and never would have been caught up in the war—" she stopped speaking abruptly. Her mind had jumped back to her room and the line of potions neatly arranged along her dresser.

"No way Granger, you still would have been involved," Draco declared confidently, oblivious to the turn her thoughts had taken. "Friend of Precious Potter or not, you've never been one to ignore an injustice. Though perhaps you would have had better sense than to date the Weasel."

She let out a small laugh though a dull pain still gripped her heart at his words. She had caught Ron and Lavender making out the other day during breakfast and it had taken everything in her not to storm over and upturn a pitcher of pumpkin juice on their heads. "Perhaps," she finally offered, deciding that even minuscule progress still counted.

"My birthday is at the perfect time of year, right at the end of term when exams are finishing up and everyone is free to celebrate," he stated smugly, raising his nose up in mock superiority.

"I know, that giant eagle owl of yours always made a big show dropping off a mountain of gifts."

"Jealous, Granger?" She gave him a half-hearted shove and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence as they neared the Hufflepuff common room. It was nearing curfew and almost all students had disappeared from the halls. A new set of Prefects would take over at 9:00, and then Hermione and Draco would have to go again at 10:00, followed by the other pair's rounds at 11:00. By midnight it was up to the portraits, ghosts, and occasional professor to keep an eye out.

"You know, other than the fact that you are obscenely rich and scared of suits of armor, I hardly know anything about you outside of childish rivalry," Hermione declared suddenly, scrunching her brow and giving her companion a studious look.

"You forgot painfully handsome and great in bed," he winked at her, smirking at the blush that couldn't help but steal across her cheeks.

"Not to mention modest," she countered, raising a single eyebrow and ignoring the heat in her face. "But seriously, I feel like you know all these things about me now and its not very fair."

"I don't really like to talk about myself," he hedged, a hint of darkness in his voice.

"Why don't you tell me about swimming? The Houses have a competition coming up, don't they?" she prodded him, hopping to find some common ground to build upon.

"Yes." Seeing that he purposefully wasn't going to give her anything else, she decided to play to his ego.

"I'm sure as captain this year you have lots of brilliant ideas for the team…" He gave her a smirk at the obvious ploy, but humored her nonetheless.

Discussing his team's strategy proved to be an engaging topic of conversation, and Hermione was intrigued to learn more about the unique Wizarding sport. None of her friends were on their House teams and she had never bothered to go to any games before. For the magical community, swimming was a sport that involved both intellectual and athletic stamina as teams engaged in a limited-spell battle while carrying out a task very similar to the Muggle game of Capture the Flag. In the middle of the Lake. Hermione shuddered to think about how poorly she would fair in such a competition.

By this point they had successfully made it back to their common room and were awkwardly hovering in the common area, not sure how to proceed. Hermione had become so used to avoiding the blonde Slytherin over the past week that she felt herself itching to slink away into her room, but she knew that would be silly. They had another set of rounds in an hour and, after all, hadn't they been having a perfectly pleasant conversation?

Gathering up her courage, she called out to him before he had a chance to disappear completely into his room.

"Are your modeling services still up for grabs?" She tried to ignore the flutter in her chest at the look in his eyes when he glanced back at her, giving a slow nod and sly grin.


	9. Chapter 9

_Happy New Year everybody! Hope 2017 has been treating you well so far :)_

 _For those of you looking forward to Hermione drawing Draco, hopefully this chapter is a good intro. I definitely plan on having more of this down the line, haha._

 _Enjoy!_

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There was certainly no denying the way Hermione's hands were shaking as she gripped her supplies and settled down on the couch. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to open her mouth and ask him to model for her and yet there he was, sitting comfortably on the couch across from her and looking for all the world as though he was thoroughly enjoying her discomfort.

 _He has no right to look so smug right now_ she thought in exasperation. Of course, she had no right to be so flustered. After all, hadn't she sketched her friends on countless occasions over the years? Despite her mental reassurances her heart was still racing and Draco continued staring at her in amusement.

1…2…3…4…5…breathing in

6…7…8…9…10…breathing out

Nothing like a quick breathing exercise to remind oneself that they were being utterly ridiculous for having a crush on their former enemy.

Looking at the way the firelight was playing off his features, there was no real point in denying that her feelings had slipped beyond friendship. Having spent the past six years being best friends with two boys, she was a veteran when it came to the delicacy of _the line_. The line between platonic friendship and the point where teenage hormones would bulldoze through and take over. No one had been surprised, really, when she started dating Ron. She had told herself that it was just a natural by-product of spending so much time together, and it was hard not to develop feelings for someone when you were constantly saving each other's lives. There was even a short period of time in fourth year when she had had a crush on Harry.

This thing with Draco is no different, she admonished herself. They were spending a lot of time together, and despite their history the Slytherin Prince was intelligent, witty, and frustratingly handsome. No need to beat herself up, but also no need to act like a simpering school girl.

Steeling herself, she pushed back her shoulders and fixed him with the most unaffected, professional look she could muster.

"Right then, I'll just set an alarm for our next set of rounds so that we don't forget."

"And what part of my perfect physique will you be sketching this evening, Ms. Granger?" She just rolled her eyes at him, glad for the excuse. The house elves must be slipping a potion into the pumpkin juice at the Slytherin table for them all to have such gigantic egos.

"Well, I thought it would be good to start with the hands," she offered. She hadn't actually allowed herself to think about what part of him she wanted to sketch, that was a slippery slope, but hands were an area she needed work in.

"At your disposal," he drawled, holding up both hands in a universal sign of offering.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," she quipped in a teasing tone, blushing immediately when she registered her own words.

Deciding it was best to not give him a chance to respond, she quickly stood up and walked the few steps to join him on the couch, pointedly ignoring the oh-so-familiar smirk.

She grabbed a pillow and placed it in the space between them, gently removing Crookshanks when he tried to insert himself in the scene. "Could you set your left hand on the pillow, please?"

He did so without fuss, placing his hand palm down and spreading his long fingers to lie flat. Picking up her pencil, Hermione bit her lip lightly as she studied the hand before her. The way he had it positioned right now offered a very two-dimensional view, not that useful for the purposes of practicing her sketching.

"Mind if I re-position you a bit?" she asked, looking up and meeting his eyes. He nodded his approval easily so she reached out with as much confidence as she could muster to grab ahold of his hand.

His skin was slightly cool to the touch and pleasantly dry. As she moved to grasp his hand more firmly between her own she could feel the tell-tale calluses of an avid Quidditch player as well as a small scar along the outside of his palm. His skin wasn't as rough as she had been expecting, though she reminded herself that he probably had a whole arsenal of skin-care potions that he used as part of his daily grooming routine. His nails were perfectly maintained, short and clean. She pressed her lips together to hide her laugh at how much nicer his hands were than hers. She hoped he couldn't feel how her palms were beginning to sweat.

She attempted a few positions with his hand, finally deciding to have him lay it palm up and turned slightly to the side with his fingers naturally curled. Reluctantly letting go she once more grabbed her pencil and settled her paper on her lap.

"Can we start with this and then maybe I can try one with you holding something?"

"Easiest job in the world," he assured her as he settled back more comfortably against the couch, being sure not to jostle his hand.

She began her sketch, and the first ten minutes felt like an eternity to her. He seemed completely at ease as he watched her draw, but for her part the silence felt like a balloon filling up and threatening to burst. Finally, she decided there was no harm in starting up a conversation.

"The hands are a deceptively difficult part of the human body to capture correctly," she began, glancing at him quickly under her eyelashes. Seeing his look of mild interest, she decided to continue. "We use our hands for so many things, and they're almost always contorted either drastically or subtly. Five fingers are a lot of moving parts for any one body part."

"Plus everyone has such different hands," Draco contributed. "Over the summer I was studying the magic behind charming snitches to recognize the individual hand that grasps it during a game, definitely some complex spells involved."

She smiled at the image of him doing such intellectual research during his free time, even if it was sports-related.

"Oh! Maybe I could do a drawing with you holding a snitch sometime!" she enthused, liking the visual she had in her head.

"Yeah, you can draw me grabbing it right out from underneath Potter's nose when Slytherin dominates Gryffindor in a few months." She gave a small giggle, thinking back to the numerous times she had heard Harry fantasizing about the reverse scenario.

"You know," he continued, "we should really be talking about your peculiar little muggle habits. We did have a deal, didn't we?"

She frowned at him, pausing in her sketching for a moment to give him a wary glance. "Explain to me again why you are suddenly so interested in Muggles?"

"Can't a bloke want to expand his horizons a bit? Who knows, maybe I'll even go into Muggle-Wizard relations someday," he drawled.

"Don't you have the Malfoy empire to run? Must be a full-time job being such a superior member of society." Her sarcasm was not lost on him. He gave her a rueful smile before his face fell, turning serious.

"The war changed a lot," he stated, firmly but not aggressively. "I honestly have no idea what I am going to do after Hogwarts." His serious tone created a weighty air between them and Hermione uncharacteristically found herself at a loss for words. "Of course, I could always join Blaise in opening up an event planning business like he has his heart set on."

She laughed. The idea of Draco Malfoy opening up a company to plan parties was an absurdly ridiculous idea.

"Well, my parents are both dentists." With that they were off, the conversation flowing naturally into a discussion of some of the most common Muggle professions and how Hermione had always planned on being a veterinarian when she was younger, back before she had any idea about the existence of magic.

Their second patrol came and went without incidence, the hallways startling quiet for a Friday night but Hermione just figured that the students were wreaking havoc in their own common rooms for once.

They settled back down on the couch when they returned, her sketch held between them as Hermione showed him the results of her first drawing. She pointed out a few of the imperfections in the knuckles that she had struggled with but he just shrugged off her self-criticism.

"Granger, this is really good. Seriously."

She ducked her head to hide her smile, more than a little pleased to hear his praise. She tapped her wand against the paper, muttering a quick spell to prevent the charcoal from smudging.

"It's still relatively early, did you want to do another one tonight?" Hermione was surprised by how much she really did want to continue, and after all he was offering.

"Do you think—would it be weird if I, maybe, did one of you taking off your tie?" She couldn't make eye contact when she made her request, too afraid to see what his reaction might be or that he would see the raging blush spreading across her face.

Not hearing an answer, she finally chanced a look at him and immediately wished she hadn't. He was looking at her with an intense expression, unblinking. Finally, with a thick swallow, he nodded.

"Let me just pour a quick drink, first," he murmured, using his want to summon the familiar bottle of Firewhiskey.

Hermione frowned a bit at seeing the alcohol, it made an appearance more often that she would have liked. She had begun wondering if perhaps he had a drinking problem, but then figured it was none of her business. She allowed him to drain a quick glass before coming over to stand in front of him, angling his body in various positions on the couch to see which position created the lighting she was looking for. His Slytherin tie was impeccably done up and for a moment she hesitated, not sure how to go about arranging his hands.

"Could you, ah, act like you are going to take it off?" she spoke softly, a slight squeak to her voice. Without hesitating he began on the task. "Wait, go more slowly," she requested, reaching out a hand to stop him from going too quickly.

The long fingers of his right hand worked their way into the knot, loosening it slightly and pulling it away from his collar. His left hand, meanwhile, grabbed the middle of the tie and began pulling it down his chest and towards his stomach.

"Right there," she murmured, biting her lip once again as she moved in to reposition him. With delicate hands she nudged the fingers on his right hand to curl a bit more against the knot and pushed it back to rest snuggly against his chest. She moved his left hand minutely, making sure to elongate his fingers and adjust the tie so it had the appearance of being in motion. She was all too aware that both of her hands were holding the both of his and were practically pushed against his chest. _Stupid hormones_ she muttered to herself once again, taking a slow step back to admire her work.

"Is that comfortable? Are you going to be able to hold that for a while?" she questioned him, seeing that the position would require his arms to stay raised.

"Always happy for an arm work out."

With that she got down to work, this time bringing over a chair so that she could sit in front of him and capture a dead-on angle. The longer she drew the more sensual the pose felt, particularly with the firelight flickering across his body. If he felt the building tension he was certainly better at hiding it, as she watched his chest breathing evenly in and out and causing his hands to move subtly.

Their conversation had reverted once more to Muggle culture, and Draco continued to appear baffled by how one could live without house elves, magical transportation, or spells. The only magical households that she had spent any extended time in were the Burrow and Grimmauld Place, and even so Hermione could tell that Draco's standards were well beyond the norm. The Weasleys certainly didn't have half the privileges the Malfoys did. Both families were pureblood, and it made her wonder if the two families hated each other because of their stance on blood purity or if it was more than that.

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe, deep down, all of your family's blood purity prejudices are really just a superiority complex of being so wealthy?"

She had made her musing off-hand, but it was clear by the tightening of his fists that Draco had registered her words. _Damn_ , she thought, _he's going to mess up my sketch if he doesn't loosen his fingers_.

"What do you mean?" he asked. He didn't seem to be outwardly angry with her, but still she knew it was best to approach cautiously.

"Just that—I don't know. You keep pointing out things like house elves and traveling around to visit your multiple homes and maintaining the grounds of your mansion…It just seems that at its heart, that has more to do with money than with magic. There are plenty of wealthy muggles with servants and giant homes, and plenty of Wizarding families without any of that stuff. It seems like most of the people that your family considers to be 'blood traitors' are much poorer than you are, I guess I'm just curious if there wasn't a different origin behind all the animosity."

He was silent after her short speech, making her a bit nervous. Had she overstepped the bounds of their new friendship?

"I didn't mean to insult you…" she offered, hesitating to say more without knowing what he was thinking.

Finally, he let out a long sigh.

"You know, I never really thought about that before." She looked up to see if he was going to say anything else, but it appeared that that would be the extent of his comments. Not knowing what else to do, she continued her drawing, glad when she felt the slight tension slowly fading away.

As the clock in their common room began it's twelve soft tolls to mark the transition from Friday to Saturday, she slowly set her pencil down. Scanning the page she gave a satisfied nod, quite pleased with how the sketch had turned out.

"Finally," Draco moaned, lowering his hands and stretching and shaking out his arms. She just rolled her eyes at him, moving over to sit next to him and share the results of her work.

"You should have said something, I could have put an immobilization spell on your arms," she scolded, not feeling all that bad for the snarky blonde.

He glanced down at the sketch, raising an eyebrow and letting out a low whistle. "Wow, that's kind of, well, hot." Hermione blushed. She had gone beyond his hands and included a rough sketch of his neck peaking out of his collar, his broad shoulders and lean torso encased within his white button up shirt. It was, she admitted internally, a rather provocative final product.

Not knowing what to say in response, she stood up once more and began gathering up her things in preparation of calling it a night.

"Thanks Draco, this was really helpful. And," a quick pause, "I had fun tonight."

Standing up as well he grabbed ahold of her hand and before she could say anything, he had raised it to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss right above her knuckles. His lips were startling soft and warm, with just a hint of moisture left behind.

"Me, too."

With that he was gone off up the stairs and into his room. Letting out a shuddering sigh, she grabbed Crookshanks and did the same.

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In the two weeks following the impromptu sketching, Hermione found herself settling into a comfortable routine with both the Malfoy and Zabini heirs. Now that she was no longer avoiding Draco they had easily fallen into a routine of studying and hanging out together when the boys weren't otherwise occupied with their own housemates. Blaise would occasionally join her and Neville at the Gryffindor table for meals, a habit that made Draco shudder in mock disgust any time he caught sight of them eating together.

There had been an underlying tension that was becoming more and more apparent between the two roommates, something that Hermione was trying hard to ignore. Neither of them had acknowledged it outright and Blaise, for once, had adopted a policy of keeping his mouth shut.

To her utter shock, last week a certain notorious eagle owl had accosted her during breakfast and dropped a beautifully wrapped package into her lap before taking up residence next to her oatmeal. The card was simple and written in an elegant script:

 _I thought you could use this for your morning runs._

 _P.S. Happy belated birthday_

There was no name signed, but there wasn't a single person in the hall who wouldn't recognize the over-sized bird. Inside Hermione found a stunning dark green vest with a pattern of silver swirls intricately inlaid that subtly shifted shape before her eyes. It was made out of some performance fabric that she couldn't place and the tag revealed that it was purchased from one of the high-end Wizarding brands and was charmed with a combo-warming/ventilation spell particularly geared to athletes. She had never owned something so fancy in her life, and was aware of more than a few curious looks being thrown her way.

It was such a thoughtful gift, she decided that she wouldn't even scold him for buying her something in such blatantly Slytherin colors.

She was in fact wearing the vest as she sat out in front of the lake that Sunday afternoon, enjoying the fresh air while she finished an essay next to her new friends.

She and Blaise were both leaning up against a large Birch tree while Draco was sprawled out on the grass on his stomach, some well executed warming and moisture-repelling charms keeping the trio comfortable in mid-October. It was a familiar setup, and Hermione found it next to impossible to keep from remembering the times she had similarly studied with Harry and Ron. Of course, in that scenario she was constantly reviewing her friends work and being interrupted by complaints instead of the comfortably focused atmosphere she now enjoyed.

As if conjured by her thoughts, she recognized a familiar figure making its way back towards the castle across the grounds. It looked like Harry was coming from a visit at Hagrid's hut and a brief spark of nostalgia and longing tugged at her heart. Her former friend had refrained from being openly hostile towards her, but he also hadn't made much of an effort to interact with her either, so she was surprised to see him turn and begin heading her way.

It didn't take long for her companions to also take note of the approaching Gryffindor. Nobody said a word, but it was painfully obvious from the rising tension that they were each aware of the significance behind this moment.

Her heart started pounding as she watched him getting closer and closer. When he glanced up and met her eyes her breath caught in her throat. It felt as though her lungs would explode in the time it took him to finish crossing the distance to where she was still casually tucked against the tree.

"Hey." His voice was quiet and uncertain, and he awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets while giving her a cautious glance.

It took her a moment to find her voice. "H-Harry, hi. How are you?" Looking around swiftly she saw that both both boys had given up any pretense of studying, instead staring fixedly and unwelcoming at the interloper. Draco smoothly got to his feet and moved to lean against the birch tree. "Potter," he acknowledged coldly.

It was clear that he was uncomfortable, and Hermione felt a small smile flit across her face mentally envisioning how strange the four of them must look in this instance.

"I was wondering if we might have a quick chat?" he asked in a rush, keeping his eyes trained on where she sat.

She had been hoping for months now that he would talk to her, that she could clear up the nonsense that had gotten so bizarrely out of hand. Of course, now she felt wholly unprepared and caught off guard. Stumbling clumsily to her feet she made to walk after him as he moved closer to the lake and away from prying ears.

For two people with so much history, the silence was notably uncomfortable as it stretched between them. They hadn't spoken directly since that first Prefects' meeting, and similar to that encounter Hermione found herself torn between resentment and longing for her former friend.

Before either of them could get a world out they were interrupted by Fang, who by this point had grown accustomed to keeping an eye out for Hermione when she was around the lake. Giving the gigantic dog a fond pat, she steeled her courage and turned to face Harry head on.

"What's up?" She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice, too afraid that if she said anything else her conflicted feelings would be too easily read.

He didn't say anything at first, simply looking over her face and taking in her appearance. When his eyes moved lower to acknowledge her vest she wrapped her arms around her torso and gave him a challenging look.

"That's an interesting piece of clothing you have there," he finally offered.

"It was a gift," she rushed to defend, not sure what else she should say. She was sure the entire school knew that Draco had given this to her, the rumors were likely way out of control by this point but she hadn't bothered to care.

"It suits you," he conceded with a small nod, turning away and staring out across the water. Not knowing what else to do, Hermione moved to stand by his side. He was the one who approached her, she would wait for him to say what he had come to say.

"Hermione, I—I'm worried about you," he breathed out, cocking his head to look at her. "Things just haven't been right with you since the war. First there was all that stuff with Ron and you using dark magic, now you've dropped some of your classes, and you're hanging out with _them_ ," at this he jerked his head back to where the two Slytherins were sitting, surreptitiously watching from 500 feet away.

"I mean, for Merlin's sake, it's Draco Malfoy! Do you have any idea what people have been saying when they saw his bloody giant owl bring you that vest?" By this point he had moved to stand in front of her, his eyes imploring as he raised his arms to gently grasp her shoulders.

"I think—I think maybe you need to talk to someone. The war was hard on all of us, there are some excellent mental healers who I'm sure could—" he broke off mid-sentence on seeing the anger rapidly taking over her face. He dropped his hands and took a step back.

It took her a moment to form any words, and to her humiliation her voice came out sounding less outraged and more heartbroken. "How dare you." It was barely louder than a whisper.

She couldn't believe that he was saying these things to her. That he would go for months without talking to her, abandoning her and taking Ron's side without even hearing her version of events, that when he finally did speak to her it would only be to warn her against the new friends she had made when practically the entire Gryffindor house had turned their backs. She swiped a hand angrily across her cheek, trying fruitlessly to hide the evidence of the tears gathering in her eyes.

"What right do you have to say those things to me?!" She could feel everything that she had been dying to tell him about for months right at the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill out. It took considerable effort for her to swallow down her words and still the shaking in her arms.

It was like he could sense all of her accusations bubbling beneath the surface.

"I know things have been strained between us. I know that I should have found a way to talk to you a long time ago, maybe I could have helped you sooner… It's no excuse, but Hermione I was so exhausted at the end of the war, I just wanted everything to be normal. I was being selfish, I know that, I just didn't feel like I had room in my head to take on more stress, and Ginny—" Here he stopped again, the look on her face telling him that this was obviously the wrong thing to say.

"Look, just please consider it. Talking to someone. For me."

"I think you should go now," she whispered brokenly, not trusting herself to say anything more and turning away.

After a minute she finally heard him moving back towards the school and allowed her tears to fall in earnest. Excuses aside, he had been a bad friend and it seemed to her that he still didn't realize the full extent of how he, not to mention Ron, had treated her. Until he was ready to make a full acknowledgment of the situation, she resolved, she wouldn't bother wasting her time on him.

Turning her head she could make out through her blurry eyes one pale and one dark shape moving towards her.

"Granger," Draco sounded unsure as he reached out a hand to lay against her arm.

Sniffling, she took a small step back and out of his reach. "I just need to be alone right now. Please."

With a nod both boys headed back, gathering up their books and making for the front of the castle. Hermione sunk down to the gravel, Fang coming to sit next to her as she stared out at the turbulent water. It was several hours before she finally made her way back inside


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to leave a review, it's always great to hear how people are experiencing the story!_

 _It's definitely been fun building out more interactions between our favorite couple - I have decided to leave the rating at a T for now but will let everyone know if and when I decide to change that._

 _Enjoy :)_

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Hermione clapped her hands together quickly, the sound muffled by her thick wool gloves. Neville had convinced her that it was part of the experience to refrain from using any warming charms, insisting that part of the fun of watching a Swimming match was freezing your butt off while doing so. Unfortunately, when she had agreed to his "rules" Hermione hadn't realized just how literal he was being. Apparently, the sport had originated a hundred years ago in the northern Norwegian islands and was supposed to be played in a cold environment. At least that's what she thought Neville was saying, but it was hard to hear him over the chattering of her teeth.

Despite the freezing temperature and blustery wind, Hermione was surprisingly excited. Swim meets were traditionally held on Thursday afternoons after class, and while normally she would have been holed up in the library she had decided to come watch Slytherin face off against Ravenclaw.

Luna had invited her to accompany she and Neville and as an added bonus she had decided to join the spunky 6th year in her support of the Eagles. She wasn't normally one to go all out for sporting events, even in her days of cheering on Ron and Harry in Quidditch, but she got a distinct thrill from watching as Luna converted her curls into a sleek French braid, woven through with blue and bronze ribbons. To add even more school spirit, she was wearing blue tights under her brown calf-length boots, rich chestnut skirt and simple blue jacket that she had charmed from its original cream color. Topping off the ensemble was a shimmery bronze eye shadow. The polished and spirited look was definitely out of character for her, but it felt freeing to step outside her usual persona.

She had noticed a few students giving her shifty looks when she arrived, but for the most part the mixed crowd was doing a good job of ignoring the brunette witch. She had caught sight of Harry, Ron and Ginny earlier, the latter of whom gave her an oddly pensive look. Hermione briefly wondered whether Harry had shared with his girlfriend any of their conversation from a few days ago.

It was painful, but after several hours of tears and self-pity Hermione realized that the confrontation had actually been a blessing. In so many ways she had been emotionally holding herself back since the end of the summer, stuck up on the disintegration of her friendships and the comfort surrounding the idea of her normal life. For months she thought that if she could just have a few minutes to explain herself everything would be okay again and they could go back to how things were (minus the cheating bastard). It was freeing to finally realize that, for once, this wasn't her problem to fix. She could mourn the loss of her friends, but she couldn't bring them back. It was up to them to make amends.

It felt like a great, invisible weight had been lifted.

Though, with this emotional clarity came another wave of anger. She had been too upset at the time to really respond to Harry's words. It was one thing to suggest that she see a mental healer (little did he know she had consulted with one extensively over the summer, just not for any reason he suspected). Yes, it was a bit condescending to recommend therapy to her without having actually spoken to her for 10 weeks, but it was even more infuriating that he had criticized her friendship with Draco and Blaise.

She wished she had had a clear enough head to defend herself and the two Slytherins in the heat of the moment, though it was a small consolation thinking of all the possible comebacks she might have thrown at him while she ran around the lake the next morning. She resolved to stop giving other people power over her by worrying about what they might think of her decisions. With that, she also resolved to stop second-guessing _herself_.

Hermione hadn't found a good opportunity in the past three weeks to try another sketch of Draco. The memory of their first and only attempt hung heavily between them, and sometimes in the evening she would catch him staring at her while they did their homework. It seemed they had both tacitly agreed not to mention anything of the drawings to Blaise, or really to acknowledge them at all. Hermione often found herself replaying the scene in her head, recalling the way his slender fingers had grasped at the expensive material of the tie, teasing against his firm chest. She imagined what could have happened if he hadn't been frozen in time. Maybe he would slowly tug it off and then undo the buttons on his shirt one at a time...

She gulped, glad that the biting air provided an excuse for her rosy cheeks.

Her little crush on her roommate hadn't exactly dissipated as she figured it would. When she had returned to their common room on Sunday after her spat with Harry, he was in his room listening softly to music with his door open. Though he would have adamantly denied it, she had smiled knowing that in his own way he was allowing her the option between needing space or wanting to vent.

As part of her new outlook on life, she had made the bold decision not to waste energy over-analyzing his every glance or every word. They were both adults (practically), they had both just been through a war, and they had both endured significant changes in their personal lives—granted, his were more subtle than hers. She figured she should just take a deep breath and allow herself to enjoy the spark he had unexpectedly brought to her life. Speaking of...

"Look, the teams are coming out!" Luna was bouncing lightly next to her, letting out a cheer with the other Ravenclaw fans.

She hadn't seen where they appeared from, but suddenly the two platforms at either side of the "field" were crowded with bodies. The identical wooden structures were small, only abou meters, and appeared to be magically suspended a foot above the churning water.

Unlike the training suit she had seen Draco in all those weeks back, each member of the seven person teams was decked out in a full black body suit going from their ankles up to their necks and wrists. Hermione still thought it looked unbearably cold.

"Neville," she turned to the boy next to her, "how do they keep from freezing in the water? It can't be any warmer than 6 degrees Celsius out there, not to mention the wind!"

"The sport is a huge mix between spell work and athleticism," he explained eagerly. "They all have a special type of warming charm cast over their bodies, it's probably not like being in the bath but they're definitely not at risk of hypothermia."

The student announcer began an enthusiastic pre-game spiel, commenting on each team's past performance and speculating on the new strategies that each captain might be attempting the first game out this year. Hermione was half-listening to Luna's comments on the Ravenclaw team, nodding as she pointed out each of the players, but her attention had focused in on the Slytherin captain.

Draco was kneeling down on the platform facing his team, presumably running through last minute instructions for the pending match. His blonde hair was slicked back from his face from the water and she had a brief flashback to his signature hairstyle from years past. She took a moment to appreciate how handsome he looked in the suit, the shimmery green serpent standing out like a beacon on his broad chest. Secretly, she wished he would stand up again and give her a better view. Unfortunately, as she turned her head back to re-focus on her friends it was clear that Luna had noticed the direction of her gaze.

"The suits are very flattering, don't you think?" Luna asked casually, offering her a knowing smile.

"N-no, well, I suppose for some body types. No way you'll ever squeeze me into one," she gave a nervous chuckle. Hoping to distract the observant blonde, she hurried on to include Neville in their conversation.

"I was just wondering, why don't they wear caps over their heads?"

"Caps?" Neville asked, confused. "Why would they want to wear a hat in the water?"

"No, like a tight glove-thing covering their hair. For Muggles, the professional swimmers always wear them."

"Why would they do that?" Neville seemed bemused but curious. Hermione just shrugged, she had never been a fan of water and had never bothered to learn much about swimming.

This prompted a detailed run-through of the suits each player was wearing, including the special insert along a single arm where players kept their wands. Apparently, it was a common strategy to have three players hang back and focus on casting the referee-approved spells while the other four executed a swimming "attack" to try and reach the other team's flag.

Hermione again returned her focus to Draco, wondering which role he would be taking in the upcoming match. It looked like the game would be starting any minute now. The announcer was going through each player's name to the cheers of the crowd, along with a healthy dose of heckling from the opposing side. She could see Blaise in the stands across from her cheering for the Slytherin team and quickly raised her arm to give him a small wave.

As he went to wave back she could tell the exact moment when he caught sight of her outfit, causing him to not-so-subtly burst out laughing. Hermione couldn't help but grin widely in return. She knew they were both thinking about how annoyed Draco would be if he could see her blatant support for the opposing team, which only made her grin wider. She hadn't told him she was planning to come and figured he'd be too busy concentrating on the match to bother searching the stands, especially on the Ravenclaw side. Of course, she hadn't counted on Blaise giving her away.

Standing at attention with his team, she watched as his eyes caught on his friend's laughter, then slowly pivoted around to focus on the object of his amusement. Her breath caught slightly when his steely grey eyes focused in on her, watching as they narrowed to a scowl once he had fully taken in her appearance. She simply smirked back at him, laughing as his scowl deepened before he finally rolled his eyes and focused back on the team across from him. She felt a little thrill knowing she had been caught out and settled down in excitement when the shrill whistle signaled the start of the first round.

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An hour and a half later and Hermione could barely feel her hands as she stiffly attempted to clap at the end of the match. It had been a close game, but in the end Slytherin had taken two of the three rounds and came away with the first win of the season. Watching the strange mix of magic and sheer physical exertion had been fun and she suspected she'd be attending other games throughout the year.

As she picked her way delicately out of the stands between her two friends she caught sight of Blaise waiting for her at the base of the floating walkway leading back to shore. Giving Neville and Luna a wave goodbye with a promise to catch up tomorrow, she made her way over to join him. He smiled as she approached, giving a low whistle and catching her hand to spin her in a clumsy circle.

"Love the outfit, Princess. I'm surprised there's not a matching pair of horns and tail."

Her laughter came out in a light cloud of condensation, loving his reference to her devious behavior. She was grateful when he wrapped a friendly arm around her and began walking away from the cold chill coming off the water.

Assuming he was leading her back to the great hall to grab some dinner, she was confused when instead he turned away from the castle to curve further around the lake.

"Where are we going?" she asked, thinking longingly of the careens of hot tea she knew were being set out at this very moment.

He didn't answer her but with every step she could see they were approaching a set of small buildings behind the stands, her eyes widening with the implications.

"Good game, Greengrass! You really creamed them with that tidal wave," Blaise called out to the group of figures emerging from the closer of the two buildings.

Hermione tried to dig her feet in and make a mad dash back to the castle, but Blaise just chuckled and held on tighter. Seeing the telltale blonde hair of the seventh person appear she attempted to school her features. _Nothing terrifying about being surrounded by Slytherins while dressed up like a Ravenclaw fangirl. Nothing terrifying at all._

Seeing the two newcomers, Draco easily made his way over to the pair and Hermione barely registered it when Blaise moved away from beside her to join the celebrating team. She took a few involuntary steps back, nervously reaching a hand up to fiddle with the end of her braid while simultaneously smoothing out her skirt. Draco stopped a foot away, looking handsome in his causal jeans and grey hoody. The combination of his clean smell and the heat radiating off his body was almost enough for Hermione to forget herself and lean in to curl up against his chest. Almost.

Reaching out his arms he grasped both of her shoulders with restrained force, allowing his eyes to scan her and taking in everything from the blue tights to the bronze eye shadow. He let out an exaggerated groan before dropping his arms and roughly running his hand through his hair. By the time his eyes met hers, his lips were quirked in an exaggerated grimace.

"Having fun?" he drawled, voice dripping in exasperation.

"Very much," she retorted, refusing to be intimidated even as she had to crane her head to meet his much taller gaze. She hadn't worn the outfit just to piss him off, but she had to admit it was an added bonus. Involuntarily, she shivered as a big gust of wind barreled along the edge of the lake.

Draco frowned a bit as he took in her shaking form.

"You're freezing," he admonished, grabbing up her closest hand and pressing it between his own. She must have forgotten her gloves back in the stands.

"Well, Neville said being cold was part of the experience," she shrugged, not bothering to pull her hand away. "Something about tradition."

"Longbottom," he muttered, turning and dragging her back towards where Blaise and a few of the other players were still hanging around, now joined by a few other Slytherins from the stands.

"You guys go on ahead, we'll be there in a minute," he called over to the group, and though Hermione was nervous it didn't seem like anyone was paying much attention to the new addition in their midst.

She allowed herself to be dragged over to the bag he had apparently dropped before approaching her, watching as he released her hand and began rifling through it.

"Umm, good game, by the way," she murmured, uncertain what she should say or what he was doing. "You swam well." She wasn't sure what the proper terms were, but it was too cold to think up anything more eloquent to compliment him on.

"Thanks," he smiled sincerely, standing back up with a green jacket in hand.

Before she even had the chance to protest he had managed to wrap it tightly around her. It clearly belonged to him as it was branded with the Slytherin crest and colors, and fell all the way to her mid-thigh. Hermione slowly felt herself defrosting from the effects of the built-in warming charm while he helped to roll back the sleeves to allow her hands to poke out.

"Thanks, Draco." It felt very intimate to be wearing his clothing, even if it was just a jacket, and a faint blush stole across her cheeks. Her eyes widened as he stepped closer in to her, leaving just half a foot of space between their bodies.

"What are you—" she began, stopping when she felt the tip of his wand touch against the back of her head. "Hey!"

With a smirk firmly in place, he slowly drug his wand down the back of her neck, between her shoulder blades and across the swell of her rear to finally come to a halt against the back of her thigh, right below the start of her skirt. It was so blatantly sensual, she couldn't help but gape at him, too stunned to move.

Of course, some of the tingling was definitely magical and she wasn't surprised when she looked down to see that her tights were now green. No doubt the ribbons in her hair had received similar treatment.

"Come on Granger, we're late."

Without a second glance he picked up his bag and began strolling back towards the castle, leaving her no choice but to follow him.

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Not much was said between the pair as Hermione nervously kept pace with him back to the castle. They weren't headed to the dungeons, to her relief, but nor were they heading to the Great Hall for dinner, making her wistful once again for a warm beverage. Instead, they continued heading up until it became clear that he was leading her to the Astronomy Tower.

"What's going on here?" she asked suspiciously, placing her hands on her hips and adopting her best Head Girl look.

"Settle down, it's just a post-game celebration. Nothing against the rules."

She didn't trust him in the least on that one, raising a single eye brow to convey her skepticism. He just grinned in response.

A group of Slytherins were gathered on one of the larger observational platforms with a buffet of food and drink spread out before them. Hermione saw Blaise, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, and Daphne Greengrass from her year. There were also a few younger students that she recognized from the swim team, including Astoria Greengrass whom Blaise had complimented earlier.

Despite attending the same school for seven years, Hermione had never actually hung out with any of the group before (aside from Blaise) and she couldn't decide if it would be more awkward to make a quick escape or take the few steps forward to join them. As though sensing her discomfort, Blaise stepped in.

"Come join us, Princess," he patted the spot next to him on the ground and held up what looked like a skewer of steak and vegetables.

She shuffled over and sat down, tucking her legs to the side as gracefully as she could manage.

"We used your trick of asking the house elves for a special order," he continued, indicating the elaborate spread. "Help yourself."

She watched as Draco situated himself between Theo and a sixth year who's name she couldn't recall, immediately grabbing a butterbeer and downing half the bottle. She could see that Pansy and Daphne were looking at her in curiosity, but Astoria seemed to be downright glaring. She decided to grab some food, if only to give her hands something to do. She was suddenly grateful for Draco's earlier color-reassignment maneuver.

It was clear that the group was used to hanging out and she listened as the conversation flowed from the recent Swimming match, to the latest Weird Sisters' song, to the mysteriously disappearing drapes in the Slytherin common room. At one point, Pansy had even struck up a conversation with her on the Transfiguration essay due next week, and Hermione was surprised to find herself having such a normal conversation with the girl.

It didn't take long to make it through the food, and before she knew it they had pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey and Dragon Barrel Brandy to pass around. She might have indulged occasionally with Draco and Blaise, but she knew the younger students at least were under-age. Biting her lip to keep from making a scene, she decided to occupy herself by transfiguring her own glass into a large lantern and filling it with blue-bell flames for warmth.

"Neat trick," Pansy commented, raising a brow in admiration.

"Ahhhhhhh, that's amazing," moaned Theo holding his hands up to the flame. "Can you do one more?" Hermione smiled and accepted the glass Draco offered her, secretly pleased to be impressing a group of purebloods with her magic.

"Well, we didn't come up here to look at the stars," began a sixth year, Derrick if she wasn't mistaken. "Who's up for a round of Battalia?"

"I'll play," offered Daphne. "But no way will I be on your team again, not after last time."

"Let's do a few practice battles to warm up," suggested Pansy, standing and moving over to the edge of the balcony.

Hermione wasn't familiar with 'Battalia' and watched in fascination as a burst of yellow shot out of Pansy's wand, twisting in mid-air to form something that looked like a cross between a thestral and a unicorn. Derrick quickly joined her, and soon a blue hawk-like creature had joined the yellow one and they began to fight silently, but in earnest.

A hand at her lower back startled her and she gasped before realizing that Draco had moved up behind her while she was distracted.

"How are they doing that?" she asked quietly, twisting her head over her shoulder to make sure he could hear her.

"It's a very basic, modified version of a personal protection spell, sort of like a patronus. Everyone's' creature takes a slightly different form, and you can control their energy through the connection with your wand. A lot of pureblood families play this game," he shrugged, seeming strangely self-conscious.

Gazing back at the night sky now lit up with dog-sized creatures, she had to admit it was a flashy piece of spell-work.

"Would you like me to show you," he murmured, leaning closer against her back to whisper in her ear. She nodded eagerly, fumbling to reach her wand under the green jacket that she still wore.

He guided her smoothly to the edge of the balcony and positioned her directly in front of him so that they had some space from the rest of the group. It made her nervous to have him standing so close to her, and when he wrapped his arm around her body to lay it against hers she jerked slightly in his grasp.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked, quickly glancing around to see if anyone was watching them.

"Relax," he chuckled. "Don't you trust me?"

 _Not in this moment, no_ she thought to herself sarcastically, letting out a small "Hummph" and straightening her shoulders in an attempt to concentrate on the task before her instead of the firm muscles she could feel behind her.

Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he guided her through the proper wand movement and incantation, explaining that concentrating on different types of energy would bring out different types of creatures.

Her first attempt, though successful, was clearly not as impressive or energetic as the other creatures currently doing battle. It was purple and kind of cat-like, and though she sent it encouraging energy through the connection in her wand all it really did was walk around and paw at the air.

She frowned and pulled her arm out of Draco's grasp. "I think you're distracting me," she complained, breaking the connection and watching the creature fade away. As she raised her wand to try again, she felt him shift behind her and was shocked when he moved her braid to the side and gently grazed his lips up her neck to the shell of her ear.

"Come on Granger, a Gryffindor wouldn't let a little distraction get in their way."

 _OH MY GOD!_ She thought, eyes wide and heart pounding. _Is he really doing this? Here?_ Part of her wanted to run while the other part wanted nothing more than to lean back and give him better access. Unfortunately, Astoria chose that moment to interrupt.

"Draco, come be on my team." Her voice was controlled and even and Hermione had no idea whether she had caught them doing—doing what? What was it exactly that they had been doing?

Casually pulling away from her he went to stand with the others, laughing at something Astoria said that Hermione couldn't hear from her spot frozen against the balcony. She felt warm all over but when she moved to take her borrowed jacket off a wave of dizziness gripped her. She reached out to the railing to steady herself, knuckles turning white under the exertion.

When the moment passed she straightened up and slipped unnoticed behind the others, making her way quietly towards the stairs. Curfew was still 30 minutes away but after that confusing display and her sudden dizziness it felt like the right time to make her exit.

While she wanted nothing more than to replay over and over again the moment when Draco's lips had skimmed her neck, her lightheadedness was mounting with every step she took and it became increasing difficult to even walk in a straight line.

"Are you alright, dear?" a portrait asked in concern as she stumbled against the wall.

She had made it to the fourth floor but was still a number of hallways from the Head dorm when her knees gave out beneath her. She caught herself in a crouched position against the floor, feeling the shock from the impact traveling up her arms and legs. Her palms were sweaty where they touched the cool stone and she could feel the blood rushing in her ears.

She tried weakly to call out for help, but before she could utter a sound a wave of nausea gripped her and forced her to clench her jaw shut.

Without another conscious thought she collapsed completely, her body curled in the fetal position against the wall.

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 _Please read and review!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Hello lovely readers, thanks again for all of the great reviews! We are definitely getting closer and closer to finding out exactly what is wrong with Hermione, stay tuned and enjoy the chapter :)_

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She didn't need to open her eyes to know where she was. Her face was half-pressed against the clean mattress and her legs were protectively curled up against her body. It was a rather undignified position for her surroundings, but Hermione chose to simply concentrate on breathing in the comforting smell of clean laundry from where her nose was smushed against the white sheets.

There was an unpleasant taste lingering in her mouth, it reminded her of the few occasions when as a child her parents had taken her swimming in the ocean and she had accidentally swallowed the sea water. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough she would find herself back there, sunburnt and covered in warm sand.

"I tried to move you, but you were quite insistent on smothering yourself."

 _Nope_ , she sighed. _Still in the Hospital Wing_.

"I'm quite comfortable like this," she muttered, her voice scratchy and muffled by the bed. She had become rather close with Madam Pomfrey over the past month and half, the need for formality had long vanished.

It had been a while since she herself had spent a night in the Hospital Wing, but being friends with Harry had certainly taught her a few things. She slowly rolled over and pushed her body up into a sitting position, groaning a bit when she felt a smattering of tender spots along her right side.

"I'm afraid I can't heal those yet," Madame Pomfrey stated sympathetically, "not until we get your system cleared out. You've got a bit of a bump on your head as well."

Hermione could feel the throbbing lump right above her ear but fortunately the pain wasn't more than a minor annoyance. Poppy, as she had taken to calling the medi-witch, was waving her wand in a transfixing pattern as she gathered Hermione's vitals.

"How did I get here?"

"Kira McGuire and Brendan Taylor found you around 9:00 last night in the fourth floor hallway, they alerted Professor McGonogall and she brought you to me straight away." Hermione rolled her eyes, what were two Hufflepuff Prefects doing patrolling together? She and Draco had deliberately created a mixed-house schedule but people kept swapping shifts.

"I remember feeling really dizzy, I must have passed out," she murmured, suddenly worried about what the scene must have looked like when the two 5th years found her.

"It seems you also had a bit of a seizure." Hermione blanched, that didn't sound good.

"How long was I unconscious?"

"Technically, you've been out for almost fourteen hours now but that was a very intentional decision on our part. We needed time to address the issue." With a flourish, Madam Pomfrey finally set down her wand and began scribbling notations into a nearby chart.

"Fourteen hours?" she cried, looking around in an attempt to find a clock. "You-you put me into a magically-induced coma?" Hermione considered herself to be a fiercely strong young woman, but knowing that her body's natural state had been suspended like that was a terrifying thought. What if she hadn't woken up? Her breaths started to come fast and her body suddenly felt sticky and warm all over.

Seeing that the Head Girl was on the verge of a panic attack, the nurse set aside her clipboard and pulled a chair up next to the bed.

"Everything's okay, dear. Let's focus on taking some deep breaths now and then I want you to drink this entire glass of water." Hermione did so, her hands shaking a bit as she lifted the cool glass to her cracked lips. Luckily, the water helped to flush out the salty taste lingering in her mouth.

"What happened? Was it—"

"Actually," Madam Pomfrey cut her off, "it was the potions you've been taking. As you know, we suspected that there might be some side-effects but unfortunately they're worse than we had hoped." Hermione listened nervously to the explanation of how the potion she had been taking had led to a build-up of toxins in her bloodstream. These toxins, in addition to slowly poisoning her body, had apparently been taxing her circulatory system and making it harder for her heart to pump blood. Poor blood pressure led to reduced blood flow in the brain, causing her to feel dizzy and, eventually, to pass out.

"I called in Healer Wenbrooke to help with the diagnosis. We realized that I had been examining you at the same time each week, Thursday mornings. It hadn't occurred to me that your vitals might have been skewed during those examinations, I had forgotten that you run in the mornings."

Hermione remembered her first meeting with Madam Pomfrey at the beginning of the school year, and being reassured that running would not get in the way of her treatment.

"Did my jogging cause me to pass out?" Her head was still throbbing, making it hard to concentrate.

"On the contrary, while you were running your blood was pumping much more strongly and you were sweating toxins out through your skin. Your vitals looked a lot healthier, so we didn't pick up on what was happening. I'm very sorry, dear."

Hermione leaned back with a sigh, her curls laying limply against the standard-issue pillows. "So what does this mean? Are there other options we can try?" She tried to think back to her meetings with Healer Wenbrooke and the other staff at St. Mungo's who had worked with her over the summer to get a treatment plan in place.

"Right now we are just focusing on clearing the toxins out of your system. I gave you a few potions orally while you were unconscious, but fully flushing them out will take time. It seems that—oh, Professor McGonogall, how good of you to join us."

Madam Pomfrey stood up to greet the Gryffindor head of house while Hermione self-consciously tried to smooth her hair. She knew it was a tad ridiculous, but she always felt the need to present her best self to her professors, even when lying in a hospital bed.

"Ms. Granger, I'm very glad to see that you're awake." The older witch's smile was genuine, though laced with concern. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, Professor," she stated, mostly believing that that was true.

"Yes, well has Madam Pomfrey here explained the situation?"

"Yes, Professor McGonogall, I was just about to go over the next steps with her. We'll need to keep you here overnight for observation," she added, turning to address Hermione again.

"Good, I'll leave you to Poppy's expertise then, I have a class to teach in 10 minutes. I understand that a few healers from St. Mungo's will be paying a visit later in the evening?" Seeing the nurse's nod of agreement, Hermione felt a bit better knowing that the experts were keeping an eye on her. Maybe it would be a good opportunity to bring up the research she had been doing...

"I almost forgot," Professor McGonogall turned back towards her bed, her heavy robes swirling gently against the floor. "We thought it best that your parents be updated on this incident, Professor Dumbledore is making them a visit on his way back from the Ministry this afternoon. Perhaps you ought to write them as well?"

"Of course, Professor, I know they'll want to hear from me." She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands and looked away to hide the glint of tears in her eyes. It had always been hard to be separated from her parents for such long stretches of time, and even more so now.

She tried to pay attention as Madam Pomfrey resumed talking, but her headache was growing and she felt drained. She gratefully swallowed the sickly sweet potion, part of her new, temporary regimen, and vaguely registered a cool sensation sweeping through her body.

As she looked out the window to in an attempt to distract herself from the foreign feeling, she idly wondered whether or not anyone had remembered to feed Crookshanks for her.

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"Sssssssssss," Draco mentally cursed as he attempted to gingerly lower himself down on the locker room bench, a sharp hiss escaping his clenched teeth.

The rest of his Slytherin teammates had headed back to the castle to catch the end of dinner, but instead of food he had opted to push himself through a few last rounds of sprint drills. The burn of his muscles had proven a welcome distraction at the time as he practiced controlling his broom through sharp transitions, but now he wasn't so sure it had been a good idea to go so hard just a day after his swim meet.

The hard wood of the bench felt harsh after sitting so long on his broom but he clenched his jaw and concentrated on removing his pads and his training robes. It had been easy to keep his mind blank up there, amongst the wind and the darkening sky, but now with his feet firmly back on the ground his thoughts were running in such a frustratingly familiar cycle it was leaving him with a pounding headache.

He pulled aggressively at the laces of his boots, ignoring the protests of his sore hamstrings.

He had gotten back from the Astronomy Tower forty minutes after curfew the night before and there had been no sign of Hermione in their common room. Her absence wasn't surprising, and he was almost glad that she had retired to her room as it gave him space to sift through the heady events of the day. Competition always gave him a rush, even more so when he came out on top, and winning the first swim meet of school year had left him feeling energized, fresh, and powerful.

He had been annoyed, angry even, he had to admit, when he first caught sight of Hermione over in the Ravenclaw stands right before the opening whistle. She had looked frustratingly attractive, even in blue and bronze, with her hair expertly tamed and her cheeks pink from the cold. He had intended to yell at her at his first opportunity, a chance to reprimand her for her blatant refusal of support and to release built-up tension all at the same time. He had almost worked up the nerve, too.

Over the past few weeks since she had asked to draw him it had been almost impossible to stay away from her. He was pleased when she asked him to sit for her, but a bit shocked at the sensual pose she had requested after their second round of patrols. It had been so difficult to remain still while she sat across from him, her face warm and soft in the flickering light of the fire. He was trapped in a strategic 'moment frozen in time'—it was a good thing she hadn't sketched his face, he was sure the blatant arousal in his eyes would have been much harder to shrug off. Despite the earnest friendship between them that had sprung from that night, the drawing was something they never mentioned. Of course, that didn't stop him from thinking about it almost obsessively. Sometimes at night when he undressed, his hands would still as they reached his tie and he could feel his heart pounding a bit out of time.

Shrugging off his robes and leaving the green material in a heap, he decided that he would shower back in the Head dorm where the facilities were large and didn't smell like decades of B.O. He quickly ruffled through his bag for a shirt to throw on but came up short. His brain gave a sharp protest as he remembered that his jacket was missing, he had given it to her the night before. It had been much too large for her and he had gotten a certain thrill from seeing his last name painted across the back of her slight frame.

The adrenaline from the game had made him bold, that and he apparently was just a simple sucker for a beautiful girl wearing Slytherin colors. He was grateful when she hadn't hexed him for his bit of spellwork on her clothes. Even more grateful when he had found an excuse to press up against her in the shadows of the tower. It hadn't been a conscious decision on his part to run his lips along the pale expanse of her neck, but like he said, he was feeling rather daring.

Not finding any clean clothes he sat back down on the bench and searched for his wand. His muscles were screaming at him at this point and he needed some relief fast.

He scowled as he muttered the musculature cooling spell, his voice coming out thick and angry as he thought back to earlier that day. He hadn't realized anything was wrong until breakfast. Hermione was an early riser but because of her running habit she typically made it to the dining hall right before classes and he often found himself fixated on her bushy hair while he munched sleepily on his eggs. He figured she had just skipped the run this morning and had headed to class early. He wasn't that worried when he couldn't find her in the halls, though he was anxious to see her and get a read on how she had taken his actions the night before. It wasn't until she didn't show up to their Advanced Charms class that he became truly alarmed.

He didn't pay attention to a single word from that lecture. At one point he had even stood up, intending to walk out and hunt her down but caught himself before his feet could move towards the door. Potter had given him a strange look and he had flopped back to his desk, trying to keep himself still until the bell. He made it back to the Head dorm room in record time, Blaise hot on his heels, but there was no answer when he knocked on her still-shut door. A quick _homenum revelio_ spell revealed that she wasn't there and when he walked in to see her bed untouched he felt a cold shiver run firmly down his spine.

Thoughts of rogue Death Eaters breaking into Hogwarts to kidnap her tore through his mind and his wand dug into his palm from the pressure of his grip. Blaise had attempted to remain rational, urging him not to panic until they had gone to Professor Dumbledore. He was ashamed of his own reaction, characterized by an overwhelmingly acute fear. He was scared thinking that she had never made it back the night before, that he had been sleeping just a few feet away while she had been missing. He was also, perhaps even more so, scared that the War had managed to once again infiltrate his life.

He couldn't remember running through the hallways with Blaise in search of a professor, but he did remember being brought up short right outside the dining hall by Professor Snape. Before he could get a word out his godfather had held up his hand, informing them that the Head Girl had been taken to the Hospital Wing late the night before. He only relaxed upon hearing that she was perfectly fine, just being held for observation, but no other details were forthcoming. His godfather had given him a very calculating look, one that Draco resented. The pair had never wasted time on discussions of emotion, and as far as he was concerned nothing had changed that would prompt him to discuss his newfound friendship with the Gryffindor princess, war heroine extraordinaire. He had simply nodded before turning and walking away, a feeling of nausea spreading through his stomach in the aftermath of his panic.

"Fuck," he breathed out, harshly. He was trying to reach a particularly sore spot on his back, but somehow he couldn't quite bend his arm at the right angle to apply the spell.

"Need a hand, D?" His muscles tightened at the surprise, shooting pain along his body, but he relaxed almost instantaneously upon recognizing the dark skin of his friend standing at the door to the locker room.

"Thanks," he mumbled, bending over his legs a bit and offering up his broad back. "Just underneath my left shoulder blade, might as well do the whole area."

Blaise made efficient work of the spell and watched silently as Draco pulled his dirty robes back over his head, smiling a bit when the blonde grimaced at the sweat and the smell.

"I just went up to see her, but they wouldn't let me in this time," Blaise finally stated, speaking softly to avoid the echo-y effect of the room. "Apparently there were some non-Hogwarts visitors in the Hospital Wing so they decided to limit visiting hours for students to minimize disturbances."

"She's still there?" Draco asked, surprised. They had gone up to see her in-between afternoon classes, and he had been relieved to see that she seemed perfectly fine. She had mumbled something about low-blood pressure and being clumsy, and her eyes had lit up when they presented her with a giant cookie they had snuck out of the kitchen on their way up—butterscotch oatmeal, her bizarre favorite.

She had been upbeat, if not a little pale, and it had been a relief to his frayed nerves to see that she was okay and it had just been his overactive imagination and personal traumas spiraling him into worse-case scenarios. In fact, he had been looking forward to seeing her that evening once he managed to drag his butt back up to the castle.

"They're going to keep her overnight for observation, probably some stupid school policy." Blaise held open the door and matched Draco's slow pace back to the castle. "Did someone over-do it?" he chuckled. Draco did not appreciate the patronizing tone.

"Maybe a bit," he huffed, trying to walk more evenly. "Did you learn anything else?"

"Madam Pomfrey said she'll be released sometime tomorrow." After an awkward pause, he continued. "Drake? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Draco replied. It was slightly easier to feign ignorance in the semi-dark, where his facial expression had less of a chance at giving him away.

"You know about what," Blaise pressed. "About Hermione."

"You said she was fine, right? What's there to talk about?" He heard his friend let out a small laugh, but wasn't surprised when he refused to drop the issue.

"Don't pretend that there isn't something going on between the two of you."

"There isn't," he asserted, a touch of his old, sneering persona sounding through in his defensive state.

"But you want there to be," Blaise continued, sounding a little too earnest. Were they really going to start talking about their feelings? _He should at least have the decency to get me drunk first,_ Draco thought in annoyance, his eye roll lost to the dark.

"I don't _want_ anything," he insisted, summoning the strength to walk a bit faster and avoid the conversation.

"I'm not looking for a heart to heart here, D. I just think maybe you should be careful, you know?" Blaise's voice dropped off toward the end, not surprised when the other boy stopped and spun toward him.

"Seriously, B? You of all people are going to feed me lines about all that inter-house rivalry bullshit?"

"It's not because she's a Gryffindor, we both know that doesn't matter," he gave the blonde a pointed look. "But there is a lot of history between you two, and things are so crazy for her this year already without the added rumors flying around about her involvement with you." Draco felt inexplicably angry, though he had no reason to be. These were the exact same thoughts that had been plaguing him for weeks, the same thoughts spinning through his head not thirty minutes ago. That didn't mean he liked hearing it from someone else.

"Are you saying I should care what other people—"

"I'm just saying that maybe you should figure things out a bit first, before you start making out in public spaces."

 _Smug bastard_ , Draco thought. "We have never—"

"Drake, you were all over her last night, and don't think that I was the only one who noticed. Astoria was pissed." He could feel an uncharacteristic blush spreading across his face. He knew it had been foolish to do anything in front of the other Slytherins, it had been delicate even bringing her to join in the first place.

"We haven't done anything," he mumbled, sounding petulant and defensive even to his own ears. Their steps slowed down as they neared the front entrance, the lights from the castle warm and welcoming.

"You know I care about you, man. I care about both of you." Blaise came to a halt, his words soft and serious. "I know the war was shit for you, I can't even begin to imagine, and I'm really glad you guys are friends. That we're all friends. That's all I wanted to say."

Draco nodded, his throat oddly tight, and threw his arm around the other boy. "What do you say we go sneak into the kitchen again, I'm starving!"

"No way, go shower first," Blaise laughed, shoving the Head Boy away as they both strolled easily through the doors and headed for the stairs.


	12. Chapter 12

_This is a long one - enjoy!_

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Hermione walked quickly through the empty halls, the sound of her footsteps echoing dully as she hurried along. It was still too early for most students to be out of bed, but she did spot a few people heading towards the dining hall for an early Saturday breakfast.

She had been awake since five, not-so-patiently waiting for Madam Pomfrey to come in and give her the all clear to return to her room. Spending the night in the hospital wing was never fun, but it was somehow even less bearable when it felt like there was nothing wrong. She had endured nearly 36 hours of the prescribed detox regimen and other than a persistent headache and a few lingering aches she felt perfectly healthy. She wasn't, of course, but the line between denial and perseverance could be hard to find.

She barely paused to take in the sight of the familiar portrait, simultaneously tossing out the password and pushing hurriedly through the door. Crookshanks was waiting for her on the nearest couch and immediately bounded over with a happy meow. She dropped the bag she held and sank to her knees against the soft carpet, gathering up her great butter-ball of a cat.

"Did you miss me, Crooks?" she murmured softly against his head, rubbing her face back and forth against the fur between his ears. She breathed in deeply, reveling in the warm kitty smell that had become such a comfort to her over the years. He was purring with abandon and she clutched him even closer to her chest.

"I fed him for you, great beast was yowling non-stop."

She was startled by Draco's sudden appearance, soon followed by a wave of embarrassment at how she must look in that moment. She'd had no choice but to put back on the clothes she had been wearing Thursday night, but instead of the polished, chic look she had sported to the swimming match now she felt frazzled and unkempt. There were no mirrors in the hospital wing so she could only imagine what her hair looked like. Actually, scratch that. She'd rather not imagine.

"Thanks," she muttered, looking away quickly after taking in her roommates typical flawless appearance. "I bet you conned him into extra kibbles, didn't you Crooks?" It was much easier to focus on the squashed orange face of her cat.

"How are you feeling? Better than you look, I hope," his voice was teasing but Hermione scowled at him as she stood up.

"You're right, this really is a hideous jacket," she countered, pulling the borrowed item away from her body in feigned disgust. "This much green would make anyone look pale and sickly."

He smirked at her in response, but soon softened his gaze. "Seriously though, everything okay?"

"I'm great, though I'll be even better after I shower," she chirped, offering up a mostly sincere smile.

"I'll wait for you if you want, I was just heading down to the dining hall. You must be hungry." He was being particularly considerate this morning, something she found equal parts sweet and annoying.

"That's okay, they fed me this morning before giving me the all-clear." This wasn't strictly true, but she wasn't in the mood for getting the silent treatment from any of her house-mates. "Catch up with you later?"

Draco looked like there was something more he wanted to say, but instead he just nodded and headed for the door. "By the way, I expect repayment for the loan of my jacket!" he cheekily tossed over his shoulder.

Hermione just rolled her eyes. _Be careful what you wish for, Malfoy_ , she thought. It wouldn't be that hard to get ahold of a Gryffindor training jacket to give him as 'repayment'. Her devilish thoughts provided extra energy as she headed upstairs in search of a clean set of clothes.

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True to form, Hermione found herself tucked away in a dusty corner of the library just over an hour after being released from the hospital wing. She felt antsy after being cooped up and since her body wasn't yet up for a run she figured some research was the next best outlet. Her team of Healers from St. Mungo's had a lot of ideas for her next course of treatment and they had spent a good two hours the previous evening going through her options. It was mollifying to know that there was a group of top witches and wizards working on her case, though it had been strange seeing them all crowded around her small hospital bed. They had presented her with two different recommendations and neither of them sounded more or less unpleasant than the other. They had all agreed to let the head healer, Hettie Wenbrooke, make the call after running each option by Hermione's parents out of respect.

Professor Dumbledore had been present for the consultation as well, nodding along but not providing any additional suggestions. He had assured Hermione that her parents were well, but worried for her, and said that he had arranged for them to come for a visit at Hogsmeade the following weekend.

She appreciated that so many people were trying to help her, she really did, but it was hard not to feel like an outside observer during those sorts of meetings. The entire conversation revolved around her, often in embarrassingly intimate ways, yet there was never much for her to contribute. She had been working on her own research for several weeks now but her hours spent in the library were no match for the years of training and experience of the other witches and wizards. _I'll just have to try harder_ she vowed, settling down more firmly in the hard wooden chair of the library.

A few hours slipped by in a blur as Hermione remained oblivious to the occasional students wandering through her section. It wasn't until she heard the unmistakable sound of Ron laughing from the next row over that she silently gathered her things and slipped off to the dining hall. It was tempting to shoot a quick spell at the bookcase and send the whole thing toppling down on top of him, but in the end her respect for the books won out.

It was nearly two, but since it was the weekend the house elves tended to leave snacks out all day before serving a full dinner at 5:00. She ate a small bowl of soup then grabbed some bread and fixings to make herself a hearty sandwich for later. The luxury of not having to sit silently at the Gryffindor table was one she took advantage of as often as possible. She ran into Neville on her way back to the Head dorm, assuring him that she had just been a bit under the weather and made a mental note of the chapters he mentioned she had missed in their shared classes.

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in a blanket on her bed working on essays for Transfiguration and Charms, each due the following week. She put on a record of Wizarding classical music, loosing herself in the lilting, haunting melodies so similar to those she had grown up listening to in the Muggle world.

Her body was starting to feel a bit achy again, a side effect of the detox, so after eating her sandwich she decided it was a good time to follow through with the rest of the regimen Madam Pomfrey had assigned to her as 'homework'. The oral potions had done a lot of good, but to get at some of the lingering toxins it was best to do a full-body soak. After a quick stretch she slipped out of her clothes and pulled on her scarlet bathrobe, yanking the tie into a secure knot. She grabbed the small cloth bag that she had been given in the hospital wing, along with a book and her towel, and headed for the bathroom.

She was a fan of taking baths when the opportunity presented itself - unfortunately that hadn't been very often during the school year until she had been made a Prefect. Even then, sharing the facility with other students was less than ideal. Now she only had to share with Draco and instead of being annoyed she found herself becoming secretly thrilled.

She used her wand to start the water, hotter than she would normally have preferred but the mediwitch had told her the hotter the better. She pulled the lumpy packet out of her bag and peeked at the contents. The substance looked like a chunky grey powder but, surprisingly, it smelled of mint and lavender. She set the packet next to her towel and wandered over the mirror. Her hair was behaving today, but she didn't want to risk getting it wet so instead she twisted it up and used a large clip to secure it in place.

Once the tub was all but full, she figured it wouldn't do to stall any longer.

"Ehrm, Mumpy?" she called out hesitantly. She wasn't accustomed to calling house elves and didn't know how loud she needed to be. Luckily, it took only three seconds before the small creature appeared.

"At your service, Mistress Granger!" squeaked the female elf, dropping into a low curtsey.

"Umm, please, don't curtsey, there's really no need…" Hermione trailed off. She had always been uncomfortable with the idea of house elves, and apparently that was one thing that hadn't changed this year. Mumpy was dressed in a patchwork of sewn-together rags, and though it looked artfully done it still made Hermione's jaw clench at the thought that the poor creature didn't have any proper clothes.

"Mistress Granger, Mumpy was told that you might be needing assistance this evening. How may I serve you?"

"I don't need you to _serve_ me, Mumpy. But are you busy right now? There's a small job I could use some help with, but only if you have the time," she declared, glancing over at her steaming bath. She really should have called in the elf before running the water, just in case.

Mumpy blinked in response, her giant eyes complimented by her equally-large ears. "Mumpy is here for anything Mistress needs, day or night."

"Well, okay then. If you could just sit here while I take a bath." She cringed at the strange request, but Madam Pomfrey had insisted that she use a house elf to keep watch while she soaked in the potion. Her low blood pressure was still a risk and could apparently be exacerbated under the conditions. The humiliation of surviving the war just to die from drowning in a bath tub was enough to convince Hermione to follow through on the mediwitch's instructions.

Mumpy just nodded happily, trotting over to the corner of the room and arranging herself on the ground with perfect posture.

"Oh, ummmm, that seems really boring, doesn't it? Just sitting there for an hour?" Not to mention, Hermione was rather against the idea of the small elf just staring at her while she bathed. "I know! Can you wait right here while I grab something? I'd like to talk to you about S.P.E.W.! I'm a very big supporter of the freedom of house elves, we can talk about your career aspirations! And I can't believe I didn't think of it before, I absolutely must pay you for helping me. Do you think five sickles is a fair amount for your time?"

The horrified look on Mumpy's face pretty much said it all, but the conversation continued to devolve. Hermione rushed through her manifesto on the rights of elves, she scrambled around for a piece of loose clothing she could present, then she desperately begged Mumpy not to leave, promising to drop the topic if she would stay. It was too late, and the house elf disappeared with a resounding _crack_! _Wizarding culture one, Hermione zero_ she thought to herself glumly.

Knowing that her water was getting cold she quickly thought through her options. She could try to call another house elf, but the only other female elf she knew by name was Winky, and they weren't exactly on the best of terms. She could wait and take her bath another time, but the steamy water looked incredibly tempting - and Madam Pomfrey had said it was important that she do the soak sooner rather than later. That left her with only one other option.

She tiptoed out of the bathroom, holding the sides of her robe tightly together even though it was securely tied. She knew it was absurd to be sneaking around, she was trying to _find_ her roommate after all, not hide from him. She almost hoped that Blaise would be there, under the circumstances it would be monumentally less uncomfortable to ask both boys to keep an eye on her as opposed to just the one.

A quick scan of the common room revealed that neither Slytherin was there, so Hermione gathered her courage and slowly approached the door at the other end of the landing. In the nearly two months since school had started she had never had a reason to go to Draco's room. She had occasionally seen him either leaving or entering, enough to give her a glimpse of the deep green decor, but she had never even crossed over onto his side of the landing until now.

Her nerves were doing a full-on Irish jig in her stomach and she was painfully aware of the fact that she was naked underneath her thin robe. She gave two sharp taps and held her breath as she strained to hear movement on the other side.

Nothing happened, and after thirty seconds she decided that he must not be in and turned to head back towards the bathroom.

Before she could get more than a few steps she heard the creak of the wood, causing her to swing back around mid-stride. He looked very casual in his green sweats and grey t-shirt, a tumbler of Firewhiskey in his hand. The strains of a driving rock song could be heard quite clearly, and she was a bit surprised to know that he had put a silencing charm on his room.

"Well, this is a fun surprise," he leered at her good-naturedly, doing nothing to hide his appraisal of her outfit.

She was already red from the steam of the bath which only exacerbated her blush. Feeling self conscious, she subtly crossed her arms against her chest, just in case.

"I'll get to the point, I'm looking for a favor." She figured there was no reason to beat around the bush, best to get it out now before she lost her nerve.

"That's bold," he smirked at her, "but dressed like that I'm inclined to hear you out. What's up?"

She tried to subtly stretch her neck and glance over his shoulder into his room, telling herself it was none of her business if he had a 'guest' over, but feeling morbidly curious nonetheless. "Are you busy?"

"Just working on that Transfiguration essay," he shrugged, indicating the pile of open books she could just make out on his desk.

 _Okay Hermione, deep breath._

"This may sound a bit odd, but I was wondering if you would be able to come and monitormewhileitakeabath." She hurried through the last part, her words coming out in an unintelligible rush.

"Sorry, could I what?"

She looked down, too embarrassed by the strange request to meet his eye. "I was wondering if you could come and keep an eye on me while I'm in the bath. Nurse's orders," she felt compelled to add.

She looked up when she didn't hear a response, mortified to see that his eyes had widened and his mouth was slightly agape.

"Is-is that a euphemism?" he finally stuttered, clearly a bit shocked at what in other circumstances could easily be perceived as a blatant come on.

"No!" Her voice was a bit too loud for standing just feet apart. "Look, Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion that needs to be administered by soaking, and a house elf was supposed to do it but I scared her off and I just need someone to make sure that things go smoothly."

When he still had nothing to say, she turned abruptly and began walking away. "Never mind, it was stupid of me to ask-"

"Granger, for Merlin's sake slow down," he took two quick steps and grabbed a hold of her arm before she could disappear. "How long do you have to soak in the potion?"

"An hour."

"Let me just grab my books, yeah?" She nodded silently, watching as he downed the rest of his drink and disappeared into his room. When he came back he had two books tucked under his arm and a fresh pour of whiskey in his glass. "Lead the way!"

It was obvious that they were both uncomfortable and Hermione could feel the humiliation spreading throughout her entire body.

The bathroom was steamy and warm when they entered, only adding to the awkward tension.

"May-maybe you could sit over there, with your back to the tub?" He nodded and moved several yards away from the bath. She grabbed a stool and set it behind him and used her wand to transfigure it into a small wall, enough to ease her mind and ensure her privacy. She couldn't see him but could hear as he settled back against the barricade.

"Do you promise not to look?"

"Has anyone told you you're no fun?" _That's the rumor around school,_ she thought with a hint of bitterness but knew that he wasn't serious.

She quickly heated up the water again with her wand before dumping in the grey powder and swirling it around. Casting one last nervous glance over her shoulder, she untied her robe and let it fall with a soft thump to the ground. She felt goose bumps raise across every inch of exposed skin, living a tingling sensation in their wake. This was the closest she had ever come to being naked in front of anyone who wasn't a medical professional, or her mother, and the thought filled her with a heady rush. Biting her lip to stifle a nervous laugh, she climbed delicately into the tub.

The water was barely translucent and felt gritty against her skin but overall she couldn't complain.

"Whatever you put in there, it smells nice." Draco's voice sounded muffled behind the wall, but she whipped her head up to make sure he wasn't peeking. There wouldn't have been anything to see from his angle, but still.

Only about ten minutes had passed, but Hermione felt like she might suffocate from the silence. She had a book with her to pass the time, but it was impossible to relax knowing that Draco was just a few feet away. She could occasionally hear a page being turned, and it made her irrationally annoyed to think that he was able to study given the circumstances. Just two nights ago he had had his lips pressed against her neck, and now she was naked not ten feet away. How was he playing things so cool when she felt ready to burst from the tension?

"You still alive?" he called out calmly, making her jump at the sudden noise.

"Yes."

"You know, you're pretty lucky to have the captain of the best Hogwarts swim team as your personal lifeguard," he teased and she couldn't help the small smile that stole across her face. "What did you do to chase off the house elf?"

"Well, I might have offered to pay her for her services…"

"Grangerrrrr," he groaned in exasperation, "you didn't go spouting off that HURL nonsense, did you?"

"It's S.P.E.W., thank you very much," she retorted in a huff. "And sorry for carrying about the plight of an extorted magical race!"

"I'm not going to argue that some families don't treat their elves poorly, you know enough about my family to prove that point, but under the right circumstances it's a perfect, symbiotic relationship. Maybe it's hard to understand as a muggle-born-"

"It's _not_ hard to understand, not giving them no choice in who they serve or where they work is called slavery!"

"Most of them _do_ have a choice," he countered. "You've only been exposed to a few examples."

"Ugh, let's not argue about this, not right now," she pleaded, rubbing her fingers against her temple to relieve the building headache.

"Fine," he agreed. "Anyway, it's not as fun when I can't see the sparks flying out of your eyes."

"Arse," she grumbled, shifting around in the water. Her skin was starting to feel tight and she was feeling a bit light headed. "Do you think you could get me a glass of water?"

"Wow, you sure know how to ask a bloke for a favor, don't ya."

"Sorry, it's just that I'm starting to feel a bit faint," her voice rose a bit at the end, sounding a bit panicked. If she really did faint in the bath and Draco had to rescue her she would never live down the humiliation, not in a million years.

"Okay, okay, I'm going to have to come out from behind this wall. You decent?"

"Yes," she squeaked. "You can just levitate it over with your wand." She watched him walk over to the sink and the glasses they each kept there. He never once looked in her direction, but nevertheless she sunk down in the water until only her head was poking out.

She could see that he had finished pouring the water; however, he didn't bother to send it over.

"Hermione." Uh oh, he had to be serious if he was using her first name. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I'd really feel better if you let me come over and check your heart rate."

She bit her lip at the request, frozen in a moment of indecision. "I'm really fine…" she tried to protest, but he cut her off.

"Look, judging by the steam you've been sitting in really hot water for over twenty minutes now, your voice is sounding peaky, you're absorbing an unfamiliar potion, and you just got out of the freaking hospital wing," he stated very directly, a hint of authority coloring his tone. "You asked me in here for a reason, please let me make sure that you're okay?"

Acknowledging that he had a point she wracked her brain for the best way to preserve her modesty.

"Just give me a minute to add some bubbles," she requested, reaching forward to grab her wand. It was just a little out of her reach, but when she shifted to stand up so she could get it a wave of dizziness swept over her.

"I-I'm too dizzy to get my wand," she admitted reluctantly, sinking back into the water in defeat.

"Okay, I'm going to come over, with my eyes closed."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her, wondering for the hundredth time how she had managed to get herself into such a vulnerable situation. He moved slowly and though he kept his hand over his eyes she couldn't help but curl her body into a protective ball, hugging her knees against her chest in a nervous grip. When his toes hit the base of the tub he gracefully offered up the glass of water before turning and sitting with his back resting against the porcelain basin.

"Is that cold enough for you?"

"Yes, it's great. Thank you," she managed to force out. Her heart was pounding like crazy and her body was gently shaking. It was impossible to tell what effects were from the potion, and which were caused by his extreme proximity in her compromised state.

"Can you extend your arm towards me so that I can check your pulse?" If she wasn't so nervous, she would have been impressed by his calm, almost professional demeanor. Holding the glass in her right hand, she extended her left arm out and awkwardly hovered it near the vicinity of his shoulder.

Despite the fact that she watched him move to bring his fingers against her wrist she still jumped in surprise at the cold touch, certain parts of her anatomy clenching beneath the water. He counted silently in his head for a full minute while she fixated helplessly on the drops of water spilling from her arm and falling gently against his cotton t-shirt.

"Your pulse is fast but it should be okay," he finally stated, releasing her arm. "Can I turn around and check your eyes? I'll add bubbles first if you'd be more comfortable."

She gave half-hearted acknowledgment but deep down she appreciated his offer . "Do you know the charm? They have to be the everlasting kind because there can't be any mixing with the potion." He responded by simply conjuring an absurdly large pile of frothy white bubbles.

"I think you might have over-done it," she giggled, feeling the tickle of the bubbles against her arms and neck.

"Nah, it's just right," he grinned, shifting around until he was on his knees in front of her and coming face to face for the first time since entering the bathroom. "Keep your eyes open and focus on my nose."

She attempted to follow instructions, but it was hard with his face so close to hers, his breath coming out in deep, steady pants that she could feel softly brushing against her lips. _I need a distraction!_ she thought wildly. "Where'd you learn to do this? Check vitals, I mean."

"Had to pick up a lot of skills during the war," he muttered, catching her eye knowingly and pressing his mouth into a hard line. "I never noticed you had gold flecks in your eyes, figures they put you in Gryffindor."

She was caught off guard by the soft tone of his voice, especially so soon after he had brought up the war. The steam from the bath had leant a pink glow to his cheeks and she had never before seen him look so open. Most often it seemed he oscillated between a facade of sarcasm or superiority, his signature smirk a trademark of each countenance.

Now, he just looked like a young, sincere boy. A boy she very much wanted to kiss.

Luckily, he turned back around before she had a chance to truly embarrass herself.

"You've got thirty more minutes. Mind if I stay close by? I'd like to keep an eye on your pulse to make sure it doesn't get any higher."

"Sure," she felt oddly bereft, as though some unspoken opportunity had passed between them, un-seized. "Thank you for looking after me, Draco. I certainly wasn't _intending_ to ruin your Saturday night."

"No problem, Granger. I'm adding this to the list of the many things you owe me for."

"I hope you accept payment in the form of 'letting you borrow my notes', because that's all I really have to offer," she joked.

"Oh, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement." His words came out low and seductive and caused her to blush down to the very tops of her breasts, well hidden by water and bubbles. She wished she were the type of girl who would know instinctively how to respond to such a comment. Unfortunately, no hidden skills of flirtation chose to emerge.

"I forgot to tell you, the Weasel fell off his broom today during Gryffindor's Quidditch practice. Made a total arse of himself!" Draco laughed. His voice had returned to a normal pitch, putting her immediately at ease if not a little disappointed.

Their conversation continued easily for the remainder of the thirty minutes. Hermione found herself relaxing, going so far as to lean her head back against the edge of the tub where it occasionally bumped up against his. The glass of water had helped with her dizziness and she found herself reluctant to bring an end to what had evolved into a rather pleasant evening.

He turned away while she toweled off and resumed her robe—who knew that underneath all the snark Draco Malfoy could be a true gentleman?

In fact, once they had gotten over the initial awkwardness of the situation, Draco had been surprisingly mature and caring — a side of him she still wasn't sure she had gotten used to. The events of the past two days had deeply unsettled her, though she was trying to be brave. If she were to be brutally honest with herself, she had been 'trying to be brave' for months now, ever since she received the terrible, life-changing news in early August. The loss of her friends had forced her to form a hard shell around her emotions, but the unexpected relationships she had forged with the two Slytherins had slowly been chipping away at her armor. And now with Draco's actions that evening she felt what was once a small hole of vulnerability rip wide open.

The decision came to her with a suddenness that made her stumble. They had each been moving silently towards their respective rooms, but she stopped with her hand stretched in midair towards her doorknob.

"Draco," her voice was barely above a whisper, but when she turned to look at him he was staring back at her inquisitively. She could still see the wet patch on his t-shirt from where her bare arm had dripped onto his chest, and she chose to focus on that because it was easier than looking him in the eye.

"The war left so many scars. We were just children, we never should have had to go through that. None of us." She managed to keep her voice from shaking and was grateful when he remained silent, perhaps sensing the seriousness of the moment to her.

"We can never escape what happened to us. For me, it's a bit more literal." She could hear a ringing in her ears, but it was too late to stop now, she could feel the words on the tip of her tongue. The words she had been avoiding saying out loud, even to herself.

"I got hit with a curse during the Battle at the Department of Mysteries at the end of our 5th year, a nasty spell from Dolohov. It turns out it was worse than the healers originally thought." _Deep breath, Hermione_. "I have a magical form of cancer, and unless a miracle happens I've only got ten more months to live."

The weight of her confession stretched torturously between the two teens. After two minutes of silence, when Draco had yet to move a muscle or utter a word she turned and walked calmly to her room, tears streaming unchecked down her face.

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 _What do you guys think?_


	13. Chapter 13

_Happy Sunday folks!_

 _So many of you took the time to share your thoughts on my last chapter, so thank you for all the wonderful feedback! I definitely wanted to build the suspense a bit while leaving clues, and I know a few of you saw this coming so it was fun to read through the predictions that people left along the way. Rest assured I have a definite plan!_

 _I have decided to change the rating of the story to 'M', just to give myself a bit more leeway without having to worry about where the line is. The change in rating is in no way an indication that there will immediately be a lot of mature scenes, but rather a preemptive opportunity for me to further develop the characters and their relationships._

 _As always, enjoy :)_

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Having shared a room with four girls for the past six years, Hermione had long ago become adept at the 'silent sob' as Ginny had so artfully coined it a few years back. Growing up was hard on everyone, and coming of age drunk on magic, hormones, and life-threatening adventures was a surefire recipe for needing a cry every now and then. She learned early on her first year that crying in the bathrooms had terrifyingly unpredictable consequences (darn trolls). Since it was dangerous to cast spells while in an emotional state she soon learned to let her tears fall soundlessly, joining the ranks of countless boarding school students before her.

She no longer had a need to be so furtive, yet old habits die hard and no sounds slipped passed her lips as she crumpled to the floor of her room. She wasn't sure if it was an effect of the potion or of her emotional decimation, but in any case she found that her arms were too weak to even lift and wipe away the snot gushing easily from her nose.

She lay on her side, back against the heavy wooden door of her bedroom. The tears from her left eye were dripping steadily into her right eye, the irritation bringing on yet more tears that streamed down her face to create a soggy mess of salt and snot on the plush carpet cushioning her cheek. Her hair, a bit damp from the steam of her bath, had come lose from its clip and was sticking in clumps to her face.

Normally the logical part of her brain, that part of her that she never seemed able to shut off, would rear up and remind her of how ridiculous she looked. After about ten minutes of therapeutic hysterics she would give a small, self-deprecating smile, wipe her eyes, blow her nose, and scold herself for letting her emotions bubble over. This time it seemed as though she lacked the strength to stop.

Her chest ached from the soundless sobs wracking her body as each harsh expulsion of air caused her ribs to stretch to the point of pain. She was still in her robe, her towel and book laying haphazardly discarded somewhere by her feet. By chance, her gaze had locked on a small pile of clothing near the end of her bed and the dark green color of a certain over-sized jacket just made her heart ache all the more.

It wasn't that she hadn't cried recently. She had found her eyes tearing up more often than she liked to admit that school year, not to mention in the months preceding the start of term. Between her diagnosis, the debacle with Ron, and the loss of her friends, it felt like there was a never-ending list of opportunities to succumb to her emotions. However, those experiences tended to be tinged with anger and fueled by a deeply held sense of injustice.

In that moment she felt nothing but sadness and loss.

She was sad that Draco had been incapable of mustering a response; she was sad that she had ruined whatever it was that had been building between them and that she had walked away; she was sad that her life was being cut so incomprehensibly short.

She couldn't hear anything on the other side of the door, and having no idea whether he was still standing there or not she promptly gave up caring. It might have been 20 minutes or 2 hours but eventually Hermione fell away into an exhausted sleep.

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She came back into consciousness easily, not even having to look to remember that she was sprawled out on the floor next to the door. It was a good thing, too, since her eyes appeared to be crusted shut under various layers of hardened goop curtesy of her crying session the night before. She felt the unsettling scrape of wet sandpaper against her cheek and blindly reach out a hand to touch Crookshanks. Her furry companion had snuck close enough to lap at the tear tracks etched across her face, no doubt enjoying the the mix of salt and dried mucus.

Hermione pried her eyelids open one at a time, blinking in the darkness until she could make out the shades of ginger on her cat's smushed face.

"Heya, Crooks," she rasped, her voice coming out rough and deep. "You helping me with my beauty routine?" She felt hollowed out and oddly expansive, as though her body had been stretched from the inside out leaving behind a thin, inflated shell.

She slowly pushed up into a sitting position, grimly acknowledging that her robe had ridden up in her sleep to leave her cold and practically exposed. The only way she could have felt more pathetic were if she had been hugging an empty liquor bottle.

It was morning, or close enough to it, and Hermione knew she had to move quickly. Her sadness had dissipated in the night, bleeding out of her in the steady stream of liquid. It had been inevitable that she break down like that, but while the experience was cathartic it wasn't necessarily healing and she knew she wasn't ready to face _him_ anytime soon.

It was just barely past four, safe enough to quietly sneak into the bathroom without being detected. She used her wand to light the lamp next to her bed and pulled out a set of jeans and a sweater. The bathroom still smelled heavily of mint and lavender and Draco's books were still in a pile by the door. She stepped over them gently, trying to ignore the lump that had lodged itself most firmly in her throat at the sight.

She only spared herself a quick glance in the mirror before turning on the faucet and splashing her face with water. Her mother had always told her that cold water was the best way to reduce puffiness and redness around the eyes, and whether true or not Hermione took comfort in the sharp contrast of temperatures against her skin. She even managed a small smile as she rubbed away the gunk from her eyes, wondering if perhaps all of the crying had helped to expel the last of the toxins from her system.

Upon removing her robe her eyes caught on the small cluster of bruises still left along her right side. The spots had grown into a darkish purple and she allowed her fingertips to gently trace the outline against her pale skin before pulling on her clothes.

 _Thank Circe it's a Sunday,_ she thought to herself, relieved. It would be easy to avoid Draco today, to avoid everyone for that matter.

Returning to her room she grabbed up a heavy jacket and gloves before stuffing her hair under the knit hat Mrs. Weasley had given her for Christmas a few years back. It was practically November and, after all, the sun hadn't even risen yet. She snuck furtively through the common area without allowing herself to glance at the door across from hers, making her way silently out of the portrait-hole.

She somehow knew exactly where she was going without needing to think about it, though if she had perhaps she would have hesitated a bit more. It wasn't technically against the rules, hadn't Luna told her that the Head Girl had permission to leave school grounds at her discretion? No matter that she hadn't gotten around to confirming this with Professor McGonogall, or that leaving in the dark without telling anyone where she was going was both dangerous and foolish.

A strange rush of recklessness washed over her as she stepped out the front doors of the castle. _And anyway_ , she thought, _it's not like this is the first time I've broken school rules._

It took her 15 minutes to walk far enough down the road towards Hogsmeade before she was outside the bounds of the anti-apparition wards in place around the school. The waning moon clung to the horizon, affording her just enough light to avoid tripping over any obstacles on the path. She disapparated with a _pop!_ before reappearing many miles away with a rush of cold air.

She stumbled a bit, immediately discovering that the Forest of Dean was much darker than the Hogwarts grounds had been. Trees pressed in on all sides, blocking out the moon and the stars, but a quick _lumos_ soon set things to right. The smell of the forest wrapped around her with a fierceness that was both comforting and melancholic. It had been years since she had been here camping with her parents but she remembered it well. Turning, Hermione found the stumpy hill she had been in pursuit of and climbed to the top. It was cold, colder than she had anticipated, but a few targeted warming spells later and she was comfortably ensconced upon the snowy ground.

Hours passed as she sat there, unmoving. She watched as the fog from her breath mixed with the breezy snowflakes in the light of her wand, and then as the sun rose she took in the minutely shifting colors of the surrounding scene as the world came into brilliant relief.

Her body was a delicious contrast of numb and raw, and as the first of the birds began singing she felt ready to finally face some hard truths.

"I am 18 years old. My name is Hermione Granger." _That's it_ , she encouraged herself internally, _start small_.

"My parents names are Margaret and Samuel Granger."

"I have a cat named Crookshanks."

"I am a witch. One of the most brilliant witches of my age," she added, smirking a bit. _No need to be modest out here with no one to hear her._

"I am a Gryffindor, and Head Girl of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"I was best friends with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, but they aren't speaking to me right now." To her surprise, the words came out easily so she quickly pressed on.

"Ron was my boyfriend, but he cheated on me with Lavender Brown and spread lies about me."

"My friends aren't really speaking to me, but they are mad at me, or maybe scared of me, and they won't listen to me."

"I am sad, but I am strong. I have other friends who support me - Neville, Luna, Blaise an-and Draco," her voice caught a bit on the last name, but she shook her head and soldiered on.

"Draco Malfoy is Head Boy. He is a Slytherin, he is a sarcastic git, he is a war hero."

"I am attracted to—" her mouth snapped shut. Apparently she wasn't ready to go there yet, which was fine because frankly those weren't the words that needed to be said, the ones that she had come here to say.

She remained silent for a few minutes, staring down at her hands where they rested in her lap and clutched at her wand. Her fingernails were short and uneven, and for just a second she wished she had paid more attention to Ginny and all of the self-care spells that her former-friend was so adept at.

"I have cancer," she whispered, her lips barely parting to let the words out. Straightening her spine, she tried again.

"I. Have. Cancer." She had spoken the words last night, and it had been the first time she had said it out loud. She knew it was time to stop hiding.

"I got hit with a curse a year and a half ago and it caused my cells to begin mutating. The mutation is spreading, and the healers don't know how to stop it."

"I went in for a simple check-up in August, and they told me I might only have a year to live." She grimaced at this one, remembering how her mother insisted that she talk to a healer about birth control since, as she put it, _Now you have a boyfriend_. In her darker moments, she sometimes fantasized about an alternate reality where she had simply ignored her mother. It wasn't like she and Ron had been anywhere close to _that_ , anyway, thank goodness. But she was getting off track.

"I have cancer. A team of healers is doing all they can to find a cure. But I have cancer."

"I'm supposed to be finishing up my last year at Hogwarts. I'm supposed to be studying for my N.E.W.T.S. I'm supposed to be finding internships and thinking about my career."

A song bird gave a happy little trill from a few trees way.

"But I have cancer."

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Hermione remained in the forest until her hunger forced her away. She had tried walking through the trees to distract herself from her stomach's rumbles, but in the end she hadn't really eaten anything for 24 hours and it was time to find food. Still not ready to return to school, she guiltily apparated into her childhood bedroom knowing that her parents would be at their traditional Sunday dinner with her grandparents.

She ached to see them, to be held by them, but she knew she would be seeing them in a few days and didn't want to worry them too much by showing up unannounced and covered in snow.

She waited for the cover of darkness before apparating back to Hogsmeade, almost expecting a brigade of angry teachers to be waiting for her when she appeared. To her surprise, there was no one around and she managed to slip back to the castle and her room without being spotted. The weekend was almost over and she hadn't done much homework, certainly not enough to make up for the classes she had missed on Friday. She was tired, but knew she should do some reading before slipping into bed. It was a welcome distraction, really, from the dread that had begun to set in at the thought of Monday morning classes.

She spent the night tossing and turning, unable to stop thinking about the awkwardness of the coming day. Draco came back to the dorm at some point, she could hear the creak of the portrait-door and his feet plodding softly across the carpet. His steps slowed down near her door, and she imagined for a moment what it would be like to rush out there and assure him it had all been a misunderstanding, some off-color joke her brain had cooked up in its addled state. In the end, she just pulled her covers tightly over her head and buried her face under her pillow.

When morning came her body was itching for a run, thrumming with a pent up energy born from several days of inactivity. Instead, she snuck down to the dining hall early in the hopes of making it to the library before most students appeared. She took a bit of extra care with her appearance, knowing that she had been a bit of a mess for the past several days. She was also hoping that if she felt put-together the rest would simply fall into place.

It had been a while since she'd had a proper meal so she loaded up her plate before shuffling down to her customary place at the end of the Gryffindor table.

"Morning, Hermione." She startled, but settled down upon realizing that it was just Neville. "A bit jumpy this morning, huh?"

"Oh, um, just didn't sleep very well is all," she offered, taking a big sip of pumpkin juice. "How was your weekend?"

"Great! I've been helping out with some lab work for that outpost in Brazil, you know. They sent me some samples to work on so I was in the greenhouses for a good chunk of time." Hermione listening in genuine interest as he outlined the Herbologists' experiment in crossbreeding the Morknell shrub with a host of other plants in an attempt to create a new species. she was really happy that Neville found his stride this year, though it was hard to stop the occasional pang of jealousy from slipping through.

"Did McGonogall give you permission to go back to their research station?"

"Kind of, apparently it's pretty hard to set up an international portkey regularly, lots of paperwork or something like that. She said I could go a few times, but after the holidays she and Professor Sprout agreed to let me do a full apprenticeship there, I'll be allowed to go twice a week!" he gushed, his cheeks taking on a hit of pink excitement.

"That's really fantastic, Neville," she encouraged. She wondered if perhaps she could convince McGonogall to let her leave school to go and work with her team of healers each week, help them with their research…

She glanced up as a group of students entered the hall, trying to keep a casual eye out for her roommate's distinctive blonde hair. She relaxed a bit when she didn't spot him, but then immediately tensed up again when she suddenly caught sight of a certain other Slytherin.

 _Blaise_.

She hadn't been sure whether Draco would have said anything to him, but one second after catching his eye and she could tell with dreadful certainty that he knew.

He froze, then awkwardly made to walk towards her before apparently thinking better of it and halting right in the center of the hall, suspended between two tables. For someone who typically slipped around unnoticed he certainly was drawing a lot of attention to himself and, subsequently, to her. He was staring right at her and had yet to move, so predictably the whispers and pointed fingers slowly began to build.

"Ne-Neville, how about we head to class early and you can show me your latest samples?" She didn't wait for his reply but just gathered up her books and walked quickly out of the hall, her breath coming fast. She wasn't exactly _surprised_ at Blaise's reaction, she wasn't even really mad that Draco had told him, but that didn't mean she was ready to deal with him in a hall full of students.

She managed to avoid both boys all day, a particularly impressive feat considering she shared Charms with them in the afternoon. Traveling through the hallways made her feel most vulnerable, not knowing whether one or both of them would be lying in wait around a corner. To guard against any surprise confrontations she took wide, roundabout routes between classes and spent her free time in the unused upper-year Transfiguration classroom instead of the library.

She had snuck a quick glance at Draco when he had arrived in Charms. He came in with Daphne Greengrass and seemed to be nodding along in feigned interest as she described what sounded like the latest Divination assignment. His robes were a bit more wrinkled than she was used to seeing but she turned away before she could make anymore observations, afraid of what emotions might be drug up if she met his eyes.

Logically, she knew she couldn't go on avoiding him for the entire school year. Such an approach would have been difficult to pull off with any of her peers, but given their co-duties as head students, not to mention their shard living space, she knew she'd have to face him eventually. Her emotions were still all over the place where he was concerned. In the past couple days she had ranged from heartbroken to outraged to embarrassed, finally landing somewhere near understanding. They had only really started becoming friends in the last two months after spending years on opposite sides of a childish, yet vicious, feud. It was a lot for anyone to take in.

On Tuesday morning she bundled up and headed to the lake, determined to come up with a plan for how to face him while she ran. Unfortunately, it seemed that the decision had been taken out of her hands.

He was waiting for her, right outside the front doors of the castle.

"Hermione—" Like a coward, she ran. The sound of her first name coupled with the conflicted look in his eyes was too much for her to handle at 6:30 in the morning, especially with no warning. It would have been the perfect time to talk with no one around and in neutral territory but her fight or flight sense was too instinctual to override.

She only made it halfway back towards the main staircase when a second figure brought her up short once again.

"Pro-professor Dumbledore, good, umm, good morning sir." She felt out of breath and off-balance, not prepared for so many unexpected encounters back to back.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore smiled at her calmly, not looking at all surprised to see her. Chancing a quick glance over her shoulder she saw that Draco had indeed followed her back inside and was standing a good ten feet away, looking equally caught off guard with just a bit panicky.

Her mouth went dry as a stream of scenarios ran through her mind. _Did a professor catch me leaving school grounds on Sunday? Did Draco freak out and complain to the Headmaster and demand new accommodations? Did something happen to my parents?_

It felt like a reasonable assumption to her that there would be no good reason for the Headmaster to seek out a student in the early morning hours unless there was a dire need to do so.

"Perhaps, Ms. Granger, you wouldn't mind joining me for a bit of an early breakfast this morning? I'm afraid I've always been somewhat of an early riser, but it seems that I am in good company."

"Of course, Professor." Not seeing any other options she nervously followed him back along the passageway, resisting the urge to turn and look at the boy left standing in the hall.


	14. Chapter 14

_Another week, another update!_

 _I've had a lot of new followers adding this story to their alerts, so welcome to all of the new readers - glad to have you!_

 _For those reviewers angry at how cowardly Hermione's been acting, just know that it's part of the complex emotions she's experiencing and very intentional. I am trying to write these characters as flawed human beings and that comes with some poor decision making now and then._

 _As always, hope you enjoy._

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Hermione was not surprised to be heading away from the direction of the dining hall as she dutifully followed Professor Dumbledore along the semi-familiar path toward the Headmaster's Tower. She had not had many occasions to visit the Headmaster's office in the past but her weekly rounds gave her a good sense of where they were going.

With each step that she took it became painfully obvious that she was in her running clothes, and though she'd had no way to anticipate running into the Headmaster she still felt irrationally disrespectful for being caught out of her school uniform. Looking down, she grimaced upon seeing that she was also wearing the green vest that Draco had gifted her a few weeks earlier. Although it had become an instant favorite, in that moment she felt it was the sartorial equivalent of wearing her heart on her sleeve. Dumbledore would be able to see right through her.

It was a short walk to the third floor, but the unexpectedness of encounter left Hermione feeling increasingly anxious. Of course Professor Dumbledore was perfectly at ease, a stark opposition to her own nerves.

"Good morning, Sir Nicholas," he nodded his head politely at the passing form of the resident Gryffindor House ghost. Hermione simply nodded her greeting, wondering briefly whether the spectral encounter should be considered good or ill luck under the circumstances.

Upon entering the Headmaster's office she was surprised to see a neat array of pastries and tea already assembled on the large mahogany desk at the center of the room.

"I hope you don't mind, I have a bit of a sweet tooth," he smiled warmly at her, sweeping his hand at the available chairs in invitation to make herself comfortable. "These lemon curd scones are particularly agreeable, I recommend trying one with the English cream."

Hermione lowered herself cautiously into a chair near the desk and after a bit more prompting she politely accepted a few treats onto a small white plate.

"Thank you, Professor," she murmured.

"The house elves certainly spoil me," he chuckled, situating himself in a chair a few paces away and loading his own plate.

"I'm sure it's well deserved, sir," she responded firmly. There had been moments during the course of the war when she didn't always agree with the Headmaster's decisions—perhaps in some cases she simply didn't understand his reasoning. It was impossible to deny, however, that he was the greatest wizard alive and had fought ferociously for the protection of his students and for all of wizarding kind.

He remained silent for a moment, his wizened blue eyes holding her gaze from beneath his half-moon spectacles.

"I think there are many of us who deserve a bit of spoiling after the events of the past years. Wouldn't you agree, Ms. Granger?"

All she could do was nod, lips pressed tightly together. She was not in the right frame of mind for a discussion on what was _deserved_. Feeling no more at ease than when she first entered the office, she decided that they may as well skip past further pleasantries and get straight to the heart of the matter.

"Professor Dumbledore, I can't help but get the feeling that you asked me here to talk about more than just the cooking skills of the house elves."

She set down her cup of tea to hide the shaking in her hands. In simpler times she wouldn't have been so nervous, but as it was there was a long list of unsavory possibilities running through her head as to purpose behind this particular meeting. Dumbledore mimicked her actions, setting aside his drink and clasping his hands gracefully on his lap.

"I can see that my invitation has very understandably made you uneasy, but I can assure you that you are not in any trouble, nor is there any cause for alarm." He was still smiling gently at her but his expression seemed guarded and there was a tightness around his eyes.

A small noise drew her attention to the perch behind his desk, where a sleepy Fawkes had begun to stir and come awake. Dumbledore rose and slowly walked towards the phoenix, offering a loving caress and a small bit of pastry to break the bird's fast.

"You are a very magnificent young witch, Ms. Granger. One of the best students this school has seen in many years, not to mention your enduring loyalty, your selfless bravery, and your ever-humbling compassion." Hermione would have blushed, but there was something in Dumbledore's matter-of-fact tone that left no room for reaction.

"It has been a privilege to watch over you and your classmates these past six years. I am thrilled to have fought for and won a better world for you, yet I find myself heartbroken over the price that was paid." He had been looking away from her, but here he stepped away from Fawkes to regard her fully. "I would have done anything to keep my students from the horrors of this war and yet you know better than most that I have failed utterly in that regard."

"Professor—" she tried to deny his remarks but the words dried up in her throat. She had been hunted, threatened, and scarred. She had seen death, she had been harmed and caused harm to others. Harry especially, she knew, had struggled under the unwanted responsibility for the entire Wizarding world and was still haunted by his experiences and his choices. Draco's own experiences during the war were still a mystery to her, but she felt a shudder run through her at the implications of living as a death eater spy right under the nose of Voldemort.

Holding her gaze steadily, the Headmaster continued.

"I wonder sometimes whether I might have made better choices, but alas, Ms. Granger, all we can do is the best with the moments we are given."

"Of course, sir," she agreed, picking up her tea again to give her hands something to do. She still wasn't sure where the conversation was going, and he hadn't exactly said anything to make her less nervous. Coming back around the desk to resume his seat, he continued on.

"I have been Headmaster of this school for many years now, and let us just say that I have a more than casual awareness of the goings on in my castle." Her lungs began to burn from effort of holding her breath, but she felt unable to exhale until she knew which of her many dramas he might be alluding to.

"To be direct, Ms. Granger, I have taken note of what we might refer to as your 'extra-curricular' work in the library. I am strongly urging that you put a stop to it."

The air rushed out of her nose in an audible deflation. That hadn't been anywhere near the list of things she thought he might bring up. No mention of the outrageous rumors circling the school, or the ostracism of her classmates? No comments on her fractured relationship with Harry and Ron, something she knew that all of the professors were aware of at this point? No hinting at her surprising new friendships with the Slytherins or any of her instances of minor rule-breaking? No acknowledgment of how scared and angry she became during her weekly visits to the hospital wing?

"Professor, with all due respect, I need to—" he cut her off gently, but firmly.

"You are immensely intelligent, Hermione, so I know you will agree with me when I point out that no amount of innate talent is a replacement for years of training and experience. You have very little schooling in the art of magical healing, and while you are gifted it would take you years of training just to qualify as an apprentice Healer."

She scowled down at her shoes, not wanting to admit the truth in his words but knowing he was right all the same.

"There are many qualified witches and wizards working on your behalf, myself included, and we are doing everything in our power to ensure that you survive this." He paused for a minute, and glancing up she had to appreciate the fact that there was no sign of superficial pity on his face. She had never been particularly close with the Headmaster, and while she didn't enjoy the sense of vulnerability she felt compelled to speak up.

"I know...logically, that is, I know that I don't have the training I need to heal myself. I know that everyone is working hard, and I trust my team of healers. But I don't know what else to do." Her parents had already begged her to give the research a rest but she had stubbornly resisted every time. Who would she be if she didn't turn to her books in times of crisis?

"I fully recognize that you have not asked my advice, but perhaps you might humor an old man for offering some anyway." She nodded politely, still feeling off-balance from the conversation. "Earlier, I mentioned briefly my own regrets and the choices I made during the war. I suggest you sincerely consider what you'd like to do with the moments you have been given—however many those might be."

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Dumbledore's words remained ringing in her ears. It was like he had shouted them at her instead of the calm delivery that had in reality taken place. She had had to rush back to her room to get dressed in time for her first class, but as she rushed up the staircase to avoid being late she found that her feet simply kept going until she reached the familiar portrait at the top of Gryffindor Tower.

If the Fat Lady was surprised to see her there she didn't let it show, swinging open promptly when Hermione gave her the current password - one perk of being the Head Girl. The common room was empty and though she should have been in class along with all of the other students she felt the need to be in the familiar, comforting space. She made her way to one of the couches near the side of the room where she had spent many evenings huddled up with Harry and Ron. Sitting down she tucked her legs up against her chest and hugged them tightly, leaning her cheek against her knees.

It would have been easy to pretend that she hadn't understood the meaning of Dumbledore's words, but that would have been a lie. In fact, she'd lately been having similar thoughts herself. If the worst were to happen and these were her last few months of life, how did she want to spend them?

Her thoughts turned to Draco and, cringing, she remembered running away from him only a few hours ago in the front hall. There was no denying that she'd been behaving childishly—making a huge, unexpected announcement and then avoiding him for days afterwards. She knew it wasn't fair of her to react so severely to his inability to respond right away. In the moment it had stung when he hadn't said anything but she of all people should know that receiving this kind of news can elicit a wide range of reactions. She herself had frozen up when the diagnosis first came back.

Knowing she had to fix things, or at least own up to her poor behavior, she got up and headed back to her current dormitory. Lessons were still in session but she figured he might come back in between morning classes to grab books so she curled up once more on the couch, this time with Crookshanks to keep her company. She thought about drawing to pass the time but she was too distracted, anxious about what she would say to Draco when he came back. She'd had no way to judge his mood that morning when she found him waiting for her, but after she ran away she was certain that he'd be more than a little mad. _Furious, more like_.

The break between classes came and went with no sign of him but she remained sitting on the couch. Apparently the new Hermione just didn't go to class anymore. Her heart rate sped up as the lunch hour approached, she knew that Draco had a free period and would likely be coming by to drop his things off before heading to the dining hall for food. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and still no sign of the blonde or any other Slytherin coming through the portrait-hole. In a show of surprising courage after her performance the past couple of days, she stood up and marched determinedly out the door and down the hall.

The great hall was full but not packed, some students had a staggered lunch hour while others took advantage of the time to squeeze in last minute assignments in the library. She hovered nervously by the entrance, scanning the furthest table as she tried to spot Draco amongst his housemates. It wasn't hard. He was taller than most of the other boys and though his hair had darkened a bit the blonde color still stood out brightly against the mass of black school robes. He was sitting with Blaise and Theo and appeared to be listening to their conversation as he half-heartedly pushed his food around with a fork. For all outward appearances he looked bored, but she was knew him well enough at this point to catch the hard set of his jaw that signaled preoccupation.

She was fiddling with her tie, scrunching it between her fingers in an anxious twitch, but she forced her hands to be still. She stepped a bit further into the room and hoped he would simply notice her so that she wouldn't have to approach him at the Slytherin table, though as head students, and now friends, it would have been less than remarkable to be seen talking to him. Fortunately, he must have sensed her because he looked up and caught her stare, his eyes going wide before narrowing into a hard scowl.

She wanted to look away but waged an internal battle and resisted the urge. The least she could do was give him the courtesy of meeting his gaze. He muttered something to Blaise without breaking eye contact and she watched as Blaise quickly swung his head to look at her before turning away again. Draco stood up, grabbing the pair of books sitting near his elbow and walking calmly toward her down the length of the table. She nervously folded her arms across her stomach and pressed her fingers against the sides of her ribs. She waited until he reached her before turning and leading them away from the dining hall. She wasn't sure if he was intending to yell at her or not, and just in case she wanted to be far away from the prying eyes of half the staff and student body.

Neither said a word as they walked back along the corridors and toward the eastern end of the first floor. She stared down at their legs and noted with a detached bemusement that he took only one step for every two of hers, their mismatched rhythm a strange comfort.

Seeing the open door to their left she stepped inside of an empty classroom, waiting for him to follow before shutting the door with her wand. The room felt large for just two people and she couldn't decide where to stand. A part of her wanted to embrace her instincts and find a seat at one of the small tables, a deeply engrained habit when entering a classroom. Instead she stepped awkwardly towards the windows, thought better of it, and came to a stop in the middle of the room.

Draco was still holding his books in one hand, letting them rest lightly against his right thigh. His left hand was clenched in a fist and he held it stiffly against his side, his whole body radiating a tenseness that looked sadly familiar from their volatile last year of the War. She bit her lip before raising her chin to meet his stormy grey eyes. They were hard and guarded, leaving her with very little insight on his thoughts as he stared back at her, unmoving.

She'd had hours to prepare what she wanted to say to him, days really if you counted all the time before. There were the words she wanted to say battling against the words she needed to say, and somehow the two became tangled up until she had no idea which were which. Enough was enough.

She moved toward him in short, slow steps yet still somehow managed to catch them both off guard as she pulled him into a hesitant embrace. She stood frozen for a few seconds, her hands resting tentatively against his arms and her body just barely brushing against his. A dull crash sounded and she was just barely able to register his books hitting the floor before his arms came up and crushed her roughly against his body.

Her arms moved naturally down to his sides and snaked around until she was clutching at his back, fisting his robes in a desperate bid to ground herself. He had over a half-foot on her that resulted in her head being pressed against the center of his chest, his own forehead coming down to rest gently on top of her bushy hair. He was warm and large and solid, and she shamelessly nuzzled her face against his shirt to soak up his expensive, masculine scent—so familiar from their shared quarters.

The weak afternoon sunlight was pouring in through the wide windows, bathing them in a tepid warmth. She wasn't sure how long they stood there, holding each other in a forceful but tender embrace.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered, brokenly, her voice muffled against his chest. He only pulled her closer in response.

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Draco was a bit surprised, though not displeased, at the position he found himself in. The events of the past three days had been hard on him and resulted in a near constant headache after the first 24 hours of Hermione avoiding him. After she had run from him that morning in the entrance hall his anguish had morphed into a cold anger and he had been rashly prepared to write her off. However when he saw her in the dining hall that afternoon, looking so nervous, he had caved and followed her anyway, unsure whether he wanted to yell at her or shake her or both.

Holding her was a far better option, and as he thought it he pulled her in even more tightly against his body. She wasn't wearing her school robes, allowing his arms to hug easily around her frame. She felt small pressed up against him, even smaller than he had imagined. A brief thought floated through his mind about how he'd need to update some of the more risqué fantasies he'd been entertaining over the past months, but he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to dispel the inappropriate thoughts. _Definitely not the time_.

He could feel her heart beating a steady rhythm against his torso and he found it immensely comforting in the face of everything he had learned. There was something poetic, he was sure, about the irony of two former enemies coming together, beginning to explore their feelings, only to discover that one of them had a literal expiration date on their lifespan. Well, anyone who could see the poetry in that could just go fuck themselves as far as he was concerned. There was no sense in allowing her to make it all the way through the war only to have her future ripped away from her so brutally.

He had been in complete disbelief when she'd told him Saturday night. Maybe if he'd asked more questions about that potion she'd been soaking in he wouldn't have been caught off guard, but instead he'd spent the evening joking with her and flirting recklessly with the boundaries of their friendship. He couldn't move an inch for an hour after she told him, not even blinking when she'd turned and disappeared into her room. Finally, numb with the shock of it, he too had retreated to his room and proceeded to drink with a vigor reminiscent of the war days. By the time he had woken up the next morning, still drunk and sprawled out on the floor by his desk, she had already left.

He'd remained in his room, thankful for his stockpile of liquor. Being too far gone to feel much of anything, he entertained himself by practicing spells on his school supplies. This, of course, resulted in more than a small amount of destroyed objects. Blaise had eventually found him and the story spilled out matter-of-factly. Blaise helped him sober up by claiming the lion's share of the remaining alcohol for himself and both boys spent the rest of the evening in stony silence, neither knowing what to say or how to say it.

The hangover on Monday morning was vicious until he had a chance to beg a sober-up potion off of Snape. His day didn't improve much from there, once it became obvious that Hermione was again avoiding him. Blaise had warned him against his decision to confront her that morning, insisting that they give her space and wait for her to come to them. Draco Malfoy was many things, but patient wasn't high up on the list so he had stubbornly surprised her anyway. Obviously, that idea had been less than successful.

"Do they know?" he asked her gently, afraid to break the bubble of silence they had been enjoying but needing an answer to one of the many questions that had been plaguing him.

She shook her head, her lips dragging back and forth against the material of his shirt where her face remained pressed. He sighed, resting his face back against her hair and breathing in the smell of vanilla that clung to her curls. He was equally sad and relieved to learn that her former Gryffindork friends remained clueless to her condition.

He wasn't sure how long they stood there, but at some point there was a knock at the door and Blaise had appeared. The uncertainty and seriousness looked out of place on his typically mischievous face. Draco watched as his friend approached and felt Hermione jump in surprise when the second set of arms came down around her.

She wriggled around and twisted her neck until she was able to peer over her shoulder, giving a small smile to see that it was Blaise pressed up against her back. Draco felt an odd pang as he watched the other boy rest his chin against her shoulder. He understood that no matter how tightly they held her it was no protection against the cancer growing inside her.

"I suppose I owe you both a real conversation," she mumbled. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Is there any nudity in this story? Preferably of the male variety, but I'm not picky. If so, I vote we start there." Draco rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, secretly grateful that Blaise had lightened the mood. He was even more grateful when he felt Hermione let out a small feminine giggle, her body shaking lightly against his and creating a warm feeling in his chest.

"Seconded," he agreed. "Let's start there."


	15. Chapter 15

_This story had officially reach over 100 reviews - yay! Thank you so much to all of you who have been giving your feedback!_

 _The past couple of chapters have been a bit heavy so thanks for hanging in there, hopefully this chapter will be a bit more balanced. I tried to pack in a lot in the interest of moving the story ahead - please share your thoughts in the comments :)_

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The filtered beams of morning sunlight sneaking through the gaps in her curtains was a decidedly unwelcome surprise. Hermione groaned and flung an arm across her face to shield her eyes, recoiling in horror when her fingers met something damp and slimy. Coming awake quickly, she scrambled into a sitting position and began cautiously examining her hair for the source of her rude awakening.

"Un-bloody-believable," she muttered under her breath, seeing the clumps of orange streaked throughout the brown curls. Waking up with tangles or out of control bushiness was one thing, but to wake up and find half a pumpkin woven into her hair was a whole other level of bedhead. Looking down it was clear that neither of her two pillows had been spared. The bright orange color of the pulp against her maroon sheets made her immediately think of the Weasleys and her entire face sunk into a frown. It was only a small consolation to know that for once it was the twins who had earned her ire.

Last night had been the big, school-wide Halloween feast. Despite the fact that the actual holiday had fallen on a Wednesday, Dumbledore and some of the other professors had decided to hold the celebration on a Friday to accommodate a more festive celebration. _Bunch of enablers_ she thought bitterly, thinking back on the past 18 hours of trying to wrangle the rambunctious, sugar-high hellions posing as Hogwarts students.

She and Draco had developed an elaborate patrolling schedule for the Prefects, designed to control the chaos. With a huff, she remembered how he had been advocating for less people on duty, arguing that the students deserved to have a little fun. She hadn't made it back to her room until nearly 3:30 in the morning, and with barely-hidden vindictiveness she found herself hoping that the Head Boy was still stuck cleaning up the mess.

What surprised her most was that it had been the younger students causing the lions-share of chaos, or perhaps the older students had just been more subtle in their trouble-making. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had clearly been marketing products for exactly that occasion, and had she been on speaking terms with the redheaded family she would have flooed over to jinx them with the strongest spells she knew. Maybe she would just write them a Howler—it was their products, after all, that had resulted in the hallway of exploding pumpkins.

She felt exhausted after the long night spent putting out fires, literally, but a quick glance at her clock revealed that it was nearly 10 and she had promised to meet Luna in half an hour to go to Hogsmeade. She hurried to change into a comfortable muggle outfit, but her hair was another issue. Upon closer examination in the bathroom mirror, it was clear that the guts of the pumpkin on the outside of her hair had dried out and become hard and crunchy, while those closer to her skin had somehow avoided desiccation and remained wet and gooey.

"Wow, Granger. I'm almost speechless."

It figured Draco would choose that moment to appear. "Sod off, Malfoy," she attempted half-heartedly.

"No, really," he insisted, walking over to join her at the sink. "I know that I've made fun of your hair countless times before, but it feels like all those times were mere rehearsals leading up to this one, glorious moment." He laughed as she defensively smacked his hand away from reaching towards a particularly large chunk of pumpkin.

"And I suppose you were going for that look," she challenged, giving him an exaggerated once-over in the mirror. It was obvious to both of them, however, that this insult fell flat and he only smirked at her in return.

His blonde hair was rumpled and sticking up at all angles, giving it a messy, just rolled out of bed look. Of course he probably had, judging by his signature green sweats and grey t-shirt. Did the man own any clothing _not_ in Slytherin colors? The simple shirt was doing him a lot of favors that morning, stretching tightly across his chest and raising up to reveal a glimpse of abs disappearing into the band of an expensive-looking pair of boxers. _Or are they briefs?_ she wondered shamelessly.

Returning her focus to the task at hand, it was hard to hide her grimace. Her hair was twice it's normal size, discolored, sticky, and with a slight smell. Between that and her bloodshot eyes she made a truly horrendous sight.

"Need some help?" he offered.

"Not a chance I'm trusting you near my hair," she replied stubbornly. The _evanesco_ spell stung as it pulled at her hair and left it even puffier than before, but at least all the pumpkin was gone. It really was way past time that she learned the more sophisticated beauty-spells.

She tried to work a brush through the mass of curls, hyper-aware of Draco's presence just behind her where he was brushing his teeth.

"Dare I ask how you ended up with such a high-fashion look?" he asked, pausing to spit his toothpaste into the sink.

" _Some of us_ were actually patrolling last night," she bit out, perturbed. "I don't remember seeing you doing much of anything to help."

"Relax, I was around," he countered casually. "I just made some time to enjoy myself too, it was a _celebration_ after all."

She looked away, pretending to focus on pulling her hair back into a messy bun. She had watched him joking with a few of his housemates during the feast, remembering the way he had laughed when Astoria had leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

"Well, _I'm_ off to Hogsmeade. _You_ can deal with the mess on the 7th floor, I'm sure it's still there." It was best not to think too hard about how exactly he may or may not have been enjoying himself the night before.

"Care for some company?" He had moved from his teeth to his hair, methodically arranging his locks into intentional disarray.

"Oh, ummm, no, that's okay. I'm actually meeting my, uh, my parents." She didn't know why it felt so awkward to mention her parents to him. Perhaps it was because they were Muggles, or perhaps it was because he could now infer the reason for their visit, but it felt uncomfortable to bring them up. He remained silent for just a beat too long, but eventually nodded.

"See you later then, Granger."

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It was hard to believe that it was already November, the year seemed to be streaming by in a blur. Hermione moved quickly out of the castle and towards the road to Hogsmeade. There was a small layer of snow blanketing the grounds, giving the school a frosted look that hinted at the full-blown wintry months to come.

The temperatures hadn't yet dropped low enough for the lake to freeze over, but the water looked icy gray and she shivered at the thought of the poor souls on the swim team. Looking at the lake reminded her of the events of the past Tuesday. The past week had certainly been an emotional one, peaking with the intimate moment she shared with Draco and Blaise in the old first floor classroom. The three of them had ended up blowing off the rest of their afternoon classes in favor of hanging out by the lake. She had managed to communicate a basic summary of her condition but in the end it proved more therapeutic for the teenagers to simply stare out at the water, launching occasional rocks in the hopes of drawing out the Giant Squid.

They hadn't really spoken about it after that afternoon, a fact that Hermione felt immensely grateful for. Blaise went through a brief phase of overprotectiveness, attempting to carry her books and fetch her supplies in class. Luckily, it only took one well-placed jab of her elbow to put a stop to that. Draco seemed to be his typical broody, sarcastic self but it had always been hard to tell what the blonde was thinking. Between making up for skipped classes and preparing for Halloween, Hermione was frankly too busy to spend much time worrying over the lingering effects of her revelation.

In the small moments between crawling into bed and falling asleep, her exhausted brain sometimes slipped into the smallest feelings of regret. For good or for bad, there was no denying that she and Draco had been building towards something. Her confession had been like a tiny explosion, pushing them slightly off-track without actually releasing the tension that had been intensifying between them. They may have become emotionally closer but now there was a hint of awkwardness in their interactions, neither really knowing the appropriate way to act.

 _Maybe the healers can give me something to shut off my hormones_ she mused snarkily. The last thing she needed this school year was to have her heart broken by yet another boy.

"Hey Luna!" The Ravenclaw was standing directly in the center of the road and staring at something zooming around her feet.

"Morning Hermione," Luna replied cheerily, looking up with a serene smile. As she got closer Hermione saw that Luna had in fact conjured a patronus, and she felt a jolt go through her at the sight of the silvery hare.

"What's the occasion?" The sight of the patronus brought up mixed memories of war-time and happiness, a mildly off-putting blend.

"Oh, I just like visiting with her sometimes, you know? And it's so beautiful outside with the snow, I figured she'd enjoy a chance to bound around. Don't you ever conjure yours just for fun?"

Hermione blanched. Given the past few months it was entirely possible that she would be unable to summon a sufficiently happy memory; however, before she could feel too sorry for herself she realized the words Luna had used.

"You're talking about your mum, aren't you?" she asked softly, somehow knowing this was the case.

"Of course, who else would be my protector?" She was direct and untroubled, which caused Hermione to smile as well. It was humbling to remember that everyone had scars, and she thought back to the blue stone that Luna had given her a month ago and which resided on her nightstand.

The walk into Hogsmeade passed by quickly as each girl shared stories from their adventures of the night before. Luna wasn't a Prefect and therefore hadn't had to patrol, but apparently the Ravenclaws had thrown a mildly raucous party in their tower. Hermione would have normally felt a bit peeved, but after hours of chasing around the third and fourth year Gryffindors she was just relieved that the Eagles had had the decency to keep their rule-breaking out of sight.

There were a few students wandering around the small town when they arrived, but it seemed most were still sleeping off the night before. They passed by a small group of Gryffindors and Hermione was a bit surprised to see Ginny standing off to the side, staring absently into the window of the bookstore. She looked subdued and sad, a rather startling combination on someone who was typically so full of life.

They were still far enough away that she felt it was safe to be a bit nosy. "Is everything okay with Ginny? She doesn't really look like herself."

"She'll be okay," assured Luna, and Hermione couldn't tell if her smile actually looked less cheery or if it was just her imagination. "I told her I'd join her for a bit of window shopping so I'll be off. Have fun with your parents, and do make sure they watch out for Nargles!"

Hermione watched as the two girls greeted each other, and though she wanted to stay and surreptitiously observe them a bit longer, that would leave her running late and feeling guilty. She was meeting her parents at the Three Broomsticks, a prospect that was both exciting and strange, like two worlds colliding.

A wave of heat hit her upon opening the door, bringing with it the comforting smells of butterbeer, ale, and potatoes. Her parents were waiting for her in a corner booth, and though they looked a bit out of place they were hiding their discomfort well.

She rushed to greet them. "Hi Mum, hi Dad!"

The three Grangers came together in a well-coordinated ball, Hermione's arms fitting around the waists of both her parents while their arms came around her shoulders and locked around her back. It had been a ritual of theirs since before she could remember, something she often thought of as their 'us against the world' pose.

"Oh, Chicky, you look a bit tired." She smiled at her mum's nickname, apparently when she was five she went through a phase of pretending to be a bird and the name stuck.

"Don't worry, mum. The big Halloween feast was last night, I was up late wrangling the younger students." She proceeded to regale them with tales of ghoulish fireworks and exploding pumpkins, glad that her parents remained largely in the dark of her own escapades over the years.

"These your folks, Hermione?" Madame Rosmerta was dressed in a set of very artsy witch's robes, likely in celebration of the recent holiday.

"Yep!" she grinned at the pub owner, noting that her parents looked a bit taken aback at the exotic clothing. "Do you think we could get a round of warm butter beers to start, please? My treat," she assured her father, knowing that he wouldn't have the right type of currency anyway.

"So, these people are all wizards?" her father asked, looking around with curiosity. They always saw her off at the Hogwarts express, but she supposed it was a little different observing witches and wizards going about their daily lives.

"Yeah, the whole village is for magical folks. Students are allowed to visit occasionally, but most of the town's business is from witches and wizards who live near these parts. Most can apparate in from wherever they please, but mostly it's the folks who prefer to do their shopping away from Diagon Alley." They nodded along thoughtfully, taking appreciative sips of their drinks.

"How did you get here, anyway? I just realize Professor Dumbledore never said…"

"A nice bloke from that ministry of yours stopped by the house. He had us close our eyes, then there was this real ghastly squeezing sensation, then we opened our eyes and we were standing near some trees just up the road!" Her mother sounded excited but she could see her dad shaking his head next to her.

"Not my idea of travel, that's for sure," he chuckled good naturedly.

Once they finished their drinks and some lunch Hermione suggested that they go for a quick walk in the surrounding woods. The pub was starting to fill up with the lunchtime crowd and though they had permission to be there she was hoping to avoid any awkward encounters with other students or professors who were getting out for the weekend.

"When do you need to be heading back?" she asked, leaning against her mother and casting a surreptitious warming charm on them as they strolled along the outskirts of the village.

"Oh, we need to meet that ministry guy in about 20 minutes," her dad checked his watch, a brief look of sadness washing over his face.

"That's okay, even a quick visit is so nice," she tried to keep a smile on her face but it was hard to think of them leaving so soon, especially knowing the inevitable conversation they still needed to have.

Part of Hermione wanted to tell them everything. Tell them about Ron and Harry and Ginny and Luna and Neville and Draco and Blaise… Tell them about how angry she felt sometimes, about her meltdown the weekend before, or about her recent conversation with the Headmaster. Instead, she put on a brave face and listened stoically while they summarized their visit with her team of healers. They agreed with Healer Wenbrooke's recommendations for next steps, and Hermione numbly went through a list in her head of all of the potential side effects she might be in for this time.

They tried to keep the conversation light but her illness was a heavy topic, leaving the three of them silent and subdued.

Knowing that it was almost time for them to go, she pulled out her wand and with a few movements conjured up a dilapidated snowwoman within the copse of trees they had ended up by.

"Remember that winter when we tried to create an army of snow-people in the back yard?" She had recreated the only one she could clearly remember. She had wanted to make a princess for the snow prince and had cried for an hour when her creation turned out lopsided.

She turned to share a laugh with her parents but instead saw that her mother was crying, her father looking sadly at the ground.

"I guess you guys need to get going," she whispered, looking away herself and swallowing down the lump in her throat. "I'll see you for Christmas, yeah? And I'll write."

"We love you, Chicky." And they embraced once again.

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There was no real reason for her to stay in Hogsmeade, what with Luna still hanging out with Ginny, so Hermione decided she might as well head back to the castle and enjoy an afternoon in the library. Maybe a nap too, while she was at it.

A few students were headed along the road in either direction but she was left alone and free to enjoy the bright sun and the fresh air. Until, that is, she made it back to the Hogwarts grounds.

"PRINCESS!"

 _What in Circe's name?!_ His voice was loud but it took her a good handful of seconds before she thought to look up and spotted the two male figures hovering a good distance above her.

"Blaise!" she half-shouted, half-hissed. A few students had turned to look, and while she didn't want to draw even more attention to herself she was also wary of him calling out to her again.

Both figures dipped towards her in a synchronized dive, each weaving in a neat spiral around the other until they landed gracefully on the ground.

"Sorry, principessa, let me try that again. GOOD AFTERNOON—"

"Blaise, shut it!" she glared at him. "I _swear_ , one of these days…"

"I'd listen to her, B," Draco drawled, leaning back smoothly against his hovering broom. "You should have see her this morning, woke up with pumpkin guts plastered to her head. Bloody terrifying."

"Not a word," she threatened him, turning her glare to the blonde.

"Oooohhhh, some kinky Halloween fun?" Blaise smirked at her.

"I wish," Hermione stated, blushing when she saw both boys' eyebrows shoot up in amusement. "Or, I mean, that would probably have been more fun than being trapped between 30 exploding pumpkins."

"Was it that Devlin kid?" Draco asked, slipping briefly into Head Boy mode.

"The Gormash twins, actually. I swear Fred and George are making it their mission this year to test out five new products a week!"

"Well your hair looks lovely now, princess. Pumpkin must be good for your curls," Blaise offered, grinning in mock sincerity and running a hand along the top of her head. Hermione just rolled her eyes in response.

"Am I interrupting Quidditch practice?" she asked. "Though technically, you're the ones interrupting my walk…"

"Just enjoying the nice weather," Draco replied, not rising to the bait.

"Perfect day for flying," Blaise agreed. "But, alas, I am expected in yonder castle anon, and must with regret take my parting and bid you both a hasty adieu."

"Save the drama for the drama club," Draco groaned, giving his friend a small shove.

"You have rehearsal today? What part did you get?" Hermione knew Blaise had been waiting for the roles in the Winter play to be posted, she was almost as invested as him at this point after listening to his audition piece non-stop for weeks.

"Not sure, should find out today," he held up his crossed fingers in the muggle gesture of good luck. "You want to borrow my broom? I know D was hoping to stay out longer, you can keep him company."

"Erm, no," she glanced dubiously at the offered racing broom. "I prefer my feet on the ground and all of my limbs intact."

"Come on, Granger. It's perfectly safe. Live a little, take a risk," Draco goaded her with a smirk.

"If it was perfectly safe then I wouldn't be taking a risk," she countered, placing her hand on her hip and staring both boys down.

"Just go with Draco, then. He'd never let you fall, and even if he did he's fast enough to catch you!" Blaise laughed and winked.

"Good by me. You in, Granger?" He was still leaning against his broom but extended a hand to her in invitation.

Though the idea terrified her, Hermione had to admit that she was tempted by the offer. She had long been scared of flying, but after facing down death eaters this fear felt more like an excuse. And wasn't she supposed to be experiencing new things?

With a huff, she brushed past his arm and walked around to the other side the broom, tucking her wand securely into her jacket.

"See ya at dinner, B?" Draco called out to the retreating form of his friend, getting a wave in response. "Alright, Granger, what's your preferred position? In front or behind?"

She scowled at his attempted innuendo and began rethinking her hasty choice, crossing her arms against her chest.

"Let's put you in front, then. It'll make you feel more secure and maybe I can even convince you to steer."

"Don't count on it," she muttered.

He easily straightened and swung his leg gracefully back onto the broom, the perfect picture of an athlete comfortable with the tools of his trade. She shuffled a bit closer, hesitantly, until she was close enough to feel the barely restrained hum of magical energy that seemed to hang in the air. She gulped.

"I don't know about this, by the looks of it that broom goes _indecently_ fast—"

"Granger," he cut her off mid-excuse. "It's either this, or we go practice swimming in the lake. You seem better dressed for this but hey, just my opinion."

She stared him down but he just stared right back, and somehow she suspected he wouldn't hesitate to toss her in the lake.

"Okay, ummm, how should I get on this thing?" She let her arms fall down to her sides but kept her fists clenched in an effort to hold on to her remaining courage.

"Come here," he encouraged, looping an arm around her waist and tugging her forward. "It's a one seater so don't be shy." He shifted back a bit on the seat but she couldn't help the blush that stole across her cheeks at the sight of how closely they'd be sitting. _Perhaps flying won't be so terrible after all_ she thought, attempting to buck herself up.

It's not like she'd never been on a broom before, but it had been a while and she'd never been the most graceful rider. She awkwardly tried to lift her leg over without touching either the broom or the boy sitting on it, shrieking when Draco simply lifted her and plopped her down firmly on the seat in front of him. His lower body was plastered to hers, and as he bent forward to grip the broom his torso and arms pressed against her as well, causing her heart to beat wildly in her chest.

"You can grab the handle there, right below my hands, but if you're going to freak out and pull on it I'd rather you just hold on to me instead," he declared, seeming perfectly at ease with the close quarters.

"R-right," she managed, tentatively wrapping her fingers around his forearms. "I swear to Circe if you drop me, Malfoy—aaaaahhhhhhhhhh!"

He had pushed forcefully off the ground, drowning her scream in a rush of air coupled with his own laughter. In seconds they had risen above the trees of the Forbidden Forest and were soaring swiftly but gently in a wide arc around the outskirts of the ground. She was now clutching at his arms, wide-eyed and shaking yet thoroughly mesmerized by the view of the familiar landscape from above. He moved them in for a closer loop of the castle before turning sharply and heading out in the opposite direction of Hogsmeade.

"Doing okay?" he asked huskily, dropping his head until his mouth was pressed up against her ear so she could hear him over the wind.

"Y-yes," she forced out through the shivers running down her spine. "Just a bit of adrenaline."

"Hold on!" He removed one of his hands from the broom handle to wrap securely around her waist. Unfortunately, she had only a moment to enjoy this before they were spinning and dipping, his arm like a steel rod anchored firmly against her stomach.

When he eventually brought them into a hover she saw that they were a ways from the castle, a beautiful landscape of rolling hills, rivers and trees spread out before them.

"Shouldn't you keep both hands on the broom?" she asked breathlessly, not knowing what to say in the face of the incredible view he had delivered.

"I'm a Seeker, Granger," he chuckled against her. "Flying one-handed is kind of what we do." By this point he had let his other hand fall away from the broom and was sitting up straight behind her as they bounced gently in the air. She unconsciously brought her arms to rest against the one he kept wrapped around her waist and leaned back into him.

"This is really beautiful, Draco," she stated, enjoying the sun on her face and the solid comfort of the boy behind her.

"It is," he agreed, sounding contemplative. "This is a favorite spot of mine, though it's much lovelier at sunset or sunrise."

"Let me guess, you like to pretend you're a prince taking stock of your kingdom?"

"Who says I'd have to pretend?" he joked cockily, briefly tickling his fingers against her ribs and making her squirm against him. They floated in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and she was a bit startled when he spoke again, much more seriously.

"Sometimes it's just nice to escape."

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Draco insisted that she steer for bit on the way back to the castle. Hermione made to protest, but when he wrapped both arms around her and brushed his fingers teasingly against her stomach she figured death was a small price to pay. Between her inexperience and distraction the ride back was choppy, the broom jerking sharply when she tried to turn and she often ended up going much faster or much slower than intended.

Had either of them been prone to motion-sickness it would have been a disaster, but as it was both teens were laughing as he helped her guide them back towards the Quidditch pitch. The landing was a bit jarring but Hermione couldn't wipe the grin off her face—that had been exhilarating! Draco helped her dismount and once she was securely back on the ground she turned and pulled him into a friendly hug.

"Thank you," she declared brightly. Her good mood dried up instantly, though, as he tensed and she heard a loud voice call out behind her.

" _Disgusting._ "

She whipped around, thrown off balance by the abrupt change in her emotions. Ron was standing by the edge of the pitch, Harry sitting awkwardly on the ground next to him and both boys in their Gryffindor Quidditch training kits. She mentally cursed herself for not spotting them sooner, it was incredible how fast the redhead had managed to spoil her afternoon.

"Ron, Harry," she bit out tersely. Harry made to get on his feet but struggled a bit and she noticed that he was holding his arm at a strange angle. Draco was remaining silent so far, but behind her she heard him get off his broom and step up more closely behind her.

"Whoring it up with a snake now, Hermione?" Ron spat at her, a mixture of rage and condescension painting his words.

"Watch it," Draco growled.

"Ron..." cautioned Harry. He sounded a bit peaky and swayed a bit on his feet.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked, concerned. Looking more closely she could see a rip in the arm of his jacket and a bit of blood that had soaked through.

"He's fine!" Ron snapped, waving his hand dismissively at his friend. "You're the one who seems to be off her rocker. First you attack me, now you're off _consorting_ with a _death eater_. Is that why you refused to sleep with me?" he mocked her, nearly shouting at this point. "Too busy being a Slytherin slut!?"

She could feel the deep flush of her face and the magic sparking at her fingertips. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so angry at him, not even when she caught him naked in bed with Lavender, and her hands shook as she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hand.

"Ron," Harry tried again, a bit sharper this time, as he placed his hand on the other boy's shoulder.

"Let's go," Hermione declared. If she stayed a minute longer she'd end up either screaming or hexing him, and neither option felt particularly useful or dignified. Draco hesitated though, she could tell it went against his instincts to ever walk away from a confrontation, especially when it came to his two childhood nemeses. "Please," she whispered, catching his eyes imploringly and setting a hand against his arm.

It took a few seconds but he finally acquiesced with a curt nod, clenching his jaw and grabbing his broom so they could head off the pitch.

"D' ya see that, Harry?" Ron called after them. "She must really be into the dark arts if she's got him trained like a—"

" _Silencio!_ " Draco muttered, aiming his wand over his shoulder and silencing Ron mid-sentence.

The walk back to the castle was passed in uncomfortable silence, Hermione running through a looped fantasy in her head where she tied Ron to the Whomping Willow and watched him get some sense smacked into his head. It was distinctly awkward by the time they made it back to their shared common room, the redhead's words hanging between them.

"I'll give you 5 galleons if we can ignore that whole scene," she joked, attempting to lighten the mood. There was no need for Ron to spoil her friendship with Draco as well.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Hermione..." he started.

"Okay, 10 galleons," she coaxed him, giving her best impression of puppy dog eyes.

His hand flopped to his side and he looked at her in exasperation. "You really drive a tough bargain with the richest guy in school." The hint of a smirk was all she needed to confirm that she had gotten her way.

Feeling a spark of bravery leftover from their flying adventure, she reached way up on her toes and brushed her lips lightly against his cheek, barely grazing the side of his mouth.

It was brief but wonderful, and left her feeling warm throughout her entire body.

"I'll be in the library," she murmured softly, delighted when he morphed from shock to an eye roll. Grinning, she disappeared into her room.


	16. Chapter 16

_To all you awesome readers out there who I appreciate so so much, a huge apology for going over two months without posting a chapter. My life has been going through a lot of transition in the past couple of months and it proved too difficult to find time to sit down and concentrate long enough to get this chapter written. I'm really hoping it won't be this long in between posts again, but things aren't quite settled so please bear with me. I definitely know the frustration of waiting on a chapter to be posted so will try to avoid that as much as I can!_

 _Enough of the apologies, I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter :)_

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Hermione sighed as she turned yet another page over in her Transfiguration textbook. She had been attempting to read the heavy tome for over an hour, but uncharacteristically the words had been washing over her without leaving an impression. It had been a fantastically long week, at least it felt that way to her, and all she wanted to do was have some peace and quiet to study. The school had been hit with an unusually large amount of snow for early November, resulting in many students opting for the library over the frosty grounds when the common rooms became too crowded. The increased chatter had left her with a pervasive headache and she clenched her fingers lightly against the thick pages of her book as she fought to drown out the noise.

A particularly loud shriek drew her gaze, though she immediately regretted turning to look at the rowdy group of third years sitting behind her. Lavender was sitting a few tables away with a handful of other seventh years, and instead of studying she seemed to be engaging in a one-sided campaign of animosity.

After the disastrous run in with Ron and Harry the week before, things had gotten even frostier between the former friends. Though to be fair, it was really just Ron, and by extension Lavender, who had escalated the hostility. The redhead had taken to openly glaring at her during class and meals, sometimes muttering vague insults as he passed her in the halls. Harry, on the other hand, hadn't really joined in this time around. In fact, Hermione noticed that he had been showing up at meals less and less, and was even absent from the occasional lesson. Ginny, too, was more subdued lately, but Hermione was just glad that she only had one outrageous Weasley to contend with for the time being.

Though Draco had abided by her pathetic bribe and not brought up the confrontation on the Quidditch pitch she knew that he had by no means let it go. The rivalry between the two houses had always been strong and anything from the smallest to largest insult could have both camps up in arms. She always held the impression that Slytherin was a house of cold, calculating students who caused trouble out of a sense of entitlement, superiority, and vindictiveness. Gryffindors, in contrast, she viewed as warm, passionate, and loyal. It was only now after getting to know them much more directly that she saw the immense passion that the snakes also held, it was simply expressed in less obvious and emotive ways than her own house was fond of. She had caught Draco and Blaise exchanging glances when they thought she wasn't looking, the subtle communication passing like shadows between them and leaving complete conversations in their wake. She knew that they were bothered by Ron's behavior, particularly Draco, but they were strategically leaving her out of it for any number of reasons she could imagine.

It made her feel weary having all of this overblown drama hanging in the air, what with her crazy ex-boyfriend and lurking illness. It felt like too much to ask for a normal seventh year after all the adventures that had occurred in the preceding six, but she liked to fantasize nonetheless.

Someone coughed loudly in a nearby stack and Hermione bit at the inside of her cheek to stop from childishly slamming her book and pulling out her hair in frustration.

"Hey there, Princess."

"Jeez!" Hermione jumped, knocking her knee against the table and letting out a low groan of pain, earning her own set of looks from nearby students. "Are you trying to kill me, Blaise?"

"Indeed I am," he grinned easily, slipping into the open chair to her right. "But I had a different place in the mind for the actual execution."

She raised an eyebrow at the odd rejoinder, sweeping his roving fingers away from the pile of notes she had been attempting to compile as he went to casually rifle through them. "Meaning?" she prompted, sensing he had no intention of being direct.

"Us Slytherins are having a snow fight and you're joining," he stated with confidence, already reaching for her bag to pack away her stuff.

"You're out of your mind," she countered, unable to stop her eyes from going a bit wide. She had seen the Slytherins engage in so-called snow fights many times before, and she had always been baffled by the aggressive battles that left everyone plastered in snow. She didn't want to imagine what they would do with the opportunity to gang up on her.

"Come on, it will be more fun than sitting in here all afternoon. You're not getting any studying done, anyway."

"I am to," she protested, tinging her voice with a good helping of indignation in the hopes that it would be convincing.

"Are not," he mocked her in the same tone, holding up her half-written notes where she had lost her concentration hours ago. "Fresh air and a bit of healthy competition is just what the healer prescribed."

There was a hint of awkwardness as they both momentarily thought of exactly the kind of prescriptions that Hermione's healers were doling out, but in the next breath they had each brushed past it.

"They'll destroy me out there and you know it," she tried instead.

"I'll protect you."

"You just insinuated that you'd be on the other team!" she protested.

"I'm sure Draco would be more than happy to step in," Blaise offered. Though his voice was casual his smirk betrayed him, and Hermione ducked her head back towards her books to prevent him from seeing the complicated emotions stealing across her face.

"I'm not sure I can trust either of you not to throw me to the wolves," she muttered.

"Actually, it's pronounced _snakes,_ " he grinned at her, taking her latest response as a full on committal. "Hurry up or we'll be late."

She really had no choice once he had snatched up her notes but she still decided to drag her feet as she followed his determined strides back to her dormitory. In the back of her mind she wondered whether she should be concerned at her new habit of more or less trusting both boys when it comes to things like this. She didn't know if even a year ago she would have allowed Ron and Harry to convince her to join a snow fight, leaving her to wonder if it was the change in friends or a change in herself driving her new behavior.

Despite her continued grumbles Blaise managed to coax her into some warmer clothes and convinced her that, no, she didn't need to bring any books. Her nerves began building a bit higher as they made their way back through the castle, but a brief glimpse of Harry, Dean, and Seamus steeled her resolve as she felt compelled to put on an air of confidence and nonchalance should they glance her way.

Outside the snow was falling heavily and she took a moment of satisfaction at the solid crunch her boots made against the white and uneven ground. The air was crisp and tinged with a wet, woodsy spice which she breathed in contentedly. She could feel her mind clearing a bit as the strain of the overcrowded castle fell away, and in a fit of immaturity she stuck her tongue out to catch against the fat flakes swirling down around them.

"Are you going to thank me yet for dragging you out here, Princess?" Blaise darted his own tongue out against the snow, managing to look infinitely more graceful than she had.

"I'll admit the fresh air is nice," she conceded. "So nice, in fact, that I think I'll just take a nip over to the owlery to continue clearing my head…"

He grabbed her before she had taken two steps to the side, slinging his arm around her shoulders and steering her determinedly towards the Quidditch pitch.

"Oh god," she muttered, face going pale as she caught a glimpse of the group of Slytherins standing in the middle of the field. "This must be what the gladiators felt like being led into the arena."

" _Glad_ -iators? Sounds like a happy bunch, yeah?" She attempted to pinch his side, but between her mittens and his layers she doubted he felt more than a nudge.

They arrived at the group all too soon and Hermione seriously considered making a run for it. She had somehow found it a good idea to bring her Gryffindor scarf along with a brown jacket, causing her to stick out like a sore thumb against the sea of green, silver, and black. She wondered if all Slytherins were suffering from a spell that caused them to only see three colors out of the entire spectrum.

Blaise released her with a squeeze and a look, warning her silently to stay put as he walked over to greet a group of sixth years where she vaguely recognized Derrick from the night in the Astronomy Tower. She crossed her arms self-consciously against her chest and cast her gaze surreptitiously around the field in an attempt to size-up the upcoming threat. She saw that most of the six and seventh years were present, with a handful of younger students who could have been fourth or fifth years. Shifting a bit to the side she even caught sight of two sixth year boys from Ravenclaw, filling her with a tiny bubble of relief that she wouldn't be the only non-Slytherin target on offer.

She wondered anxiously where Draco was, without letting her brain form that exact thought. She just needed a friendly face, she tried to convince herself, not to mention getting a handle on who all of the players would be. Scanning everyone's heads she finally landed on the back of his recognizable blonde locks. She began inching her way shyly around the edge of bodies, hoping he'd live up to her expectations of a refuge. This plan was brought to a halt, however, upon seeing that he was already engaged in conversation.

If anyone had told Hermione before this year that she would come to be regularly jealous of Astoria Greengrass, she would have thought they were insane. The sixth year was pretty, charming, rich and athletic—more than enough to make most girls at Hogwarts at least a little bit green with envy. This had never bothered Hermione before, but in those increasing moments of brutal honesty she had to admit that the sophisticated brunette appeared to have something she wanted. Astoria looked casual in her expensive black leggings and dragon-hide boots paired with a simple silver jacket. Her hair wasn't obviously done up and she was wearing no make-up, a fact that just served to depress Hermione more in acknowledging the gorgeous picture she made. She couldn't hear what they were talking about from where they stood, but Draco seemed engaged and had a small smile on his face.

He looked up before she could get too lost in her own self-pity, a brief flash of surprise passing across his face before it settled on amused. Hermione tried to swallow down the mix of nerves and satisfaction she felt as she watched him break away and walk over towards her.

"Wasn't expecting to see you here, Granger."

"Blaise had promised me protection but I'm beginning to think the whole thing was an elaborate trap," she offered, only half-joking.

"You're not doing yourself any favors with that scarf," he agreed, reaching out to unwind it from around her neck. "I seem to recall someone giving you a jacket that would have been very appropriate for this game," he continued as he withdrew his wand to reduce the size of the scarf and tuck it away in his pocket.

"It wouldn't have been warm enough!" she protested, raising her hands to pull her jacket in against the exposed skin of her neck. "And believe it or not that scarf wasn't just for show." She wanted to be purposefully, irrationally irritated with him for talking with Astoria, but somehow the resolve wouldn't stick.

"Stop your whining, it's not safe to show any weakness on the battlefield," he winked at her and brought his wand up to gently tap against her jacket, the warmth of a well-placed warming charm spreading across her torso. She really did need to ask him to teach her how he wove them so well into an article of clothing.

"Right then, everyone into a circle!" called Theo, and Hermione watched as the group began to spread out and form a circle around the burly seventh year. She shuffled along next to Draco as they fell into what was obviously a practiced ritual for the Slytherins. She experienced a moment of dread as she realized that Theo was performing a spell to pick teams and after a small tingle she looked down to see a glowing red patch on her chest. She saw a few students immediately begin sprinting off or picking up snow and people began shouting out strategies and commands all around her. She turned to Draco in a panic, only to see that he was sporting a big blue patch instead of red and already had a handful of snow at the ready.

Instead of throwing it at her as she feared, he leaned in close until his mouth was just inches from her ear. "Keep your guard up, Granger," he whispered. As he turned and jogged off toward another group from the blue team, she realized that he had left his ball of snow resting firmly in her hand.

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It had taken her longer than expected until she fully understood that she was in over her head. By some miracle of spell work she had been put on a team with Blaise and a handful of others, but even this piece of luck was no match against her lack of snow-related magical knowledge. Some of the younger students stuck to pretty basic levitation and directional spells, but the older students were well prepared with elaborate ways to, essentially, hurl large amounts of snow at one another. There ended up being five teams of six people, each group employing a varying strategy of defend, hide, and ambush. Hermione began to improvise after getting pelted with more than a few snowballs, throwing up protective shields both physical and magical. She did know how to make snowmen with her wand so at some point she began conjuring them up and then launching them at any moving target she could find. It wasn't very sophisticated but it did prove effective—she couldn't help but laugh when she saw one collide with Crabbe 40 feet away.

She assumed there was some sort of objective, but after twenty minutes and being none the wiser as to what that objective might be, she ducked behind a wall of snow to catch her breath. The fingers of her right hand hurt from gripping her wand too tightly and even through the warming charm she could feel the cold dampness soaking through. She muttered a quick drying spell to take care of the worst of it and then fumbled in her pocket before pulling out a packet of small white pills. It took a minute to pull off her gloves and navigate her stiff fingers around the small capsules, but eventually she was able to pop two in her mouth. It was hard to tell through all of the adrenaline, but she had been feeling easily exhausted that week under her new potion regimen and had been instructed to use the pills as a counterbalance.

"Pssst, Granger. Come here." She looked up to see Draco a few feet away, hiding amongst the support beams of the Quidditch stands. She frowned at first, last she had seen him he'd been halfway across the pitch directing his team like an army and getting good results at that.

"Is this a trick?" she called back softly, narrowing her eyes. While she noticed that he hand't been as aggressive against her as he was with others that didn't mean she had escaped completely unscathed.

"Take the risk and come find out," he smirked back at her, crooking a single finger to emphasize his request.

She was a bit leery of there being a trap so she looked around cautiously before making a quick break towards the stands and ducking under the wood to join him in the shadows.

"You seem none the worse for the wear," he commented, taking a moment to look her over and patting his hands gently along her jacket to see how wet she was. "Too bad your team's in last place."

"How could we possibly be in last place?" she protested in frustration. "I don't even know what the bloody objective is, there's no way you can argue that we're losing!"

"Come on," he ignored her protest and grabbed her hand instead, dragging her to the other side of the stands and away from the field.

"Where are we going?"

"I've had enough of these silly children. I figured, as the only other person able to leave the castle on a whim, that you might like to join me."

"Join you where?" she questioned, more than a little curious as to what he had in mind and trying to keep up with his long stride through the snow.

"Just a little place from the Malfoy family vacations," he offered as they reached the trees of the Forbidden Forest. "Afraid it's more snow though."

"Malfoy, where are we—aaahhhhhhhh!" He had turned to her so abruptly, wrapping an arm around her waist and disapparating virtually simultaneously so that she had no time to protest or to prepare. By the time she managed to get her bearings he had moved slightly away from her again, sweeping his arm in front of him to show off their new location.

"Welcome to _Portes du Soleil_ ," he declared grandly.

"Are-are we in the French alps?" Hermione's eyes went wide as she took in the view around her. They were at the top of a peak in what was clearly a massive mountain range, snow and trees and sun spread out before her in every direction.

"Wait here," was his only response. She turned her head to see him walking over to a nearby lodge but it was impossible to tear her gaze away from the view for too long. She could see a few other people near where they had apparated, other witches and wizards by the look of them, but she was more interested in how blue the sky was than in the people around her.

"For the lady." She hadn't heard him approach and was startled by his reappearance. He had a glass of fire whiskey, in typical Draco fashion, and was holding out a flute of something pale and bubbly. She raised the glass to her lips tentatively, but instead of the champagne she had been expecting she tasted fruit and sugar.

"Sparkling white peach cider," he answered her raised eyebrow. "I wasn't sure if you should be, well, drinking alcohol on your new medication." A bit of the snark had drained from his voice in his last sentence and she snuck a surreptitious glance at him as she took a larger sip.

"Actually, it shouldn't affect anything. But that's really considerate of you," she hurried to say, offering him a sincere smile and fighting through her blush.

"Yeah, well, figured I needed to balance things out after beating your team so badly back there," he laughed.

She settled for sticking her tongue out at him. "Are you lot pre-programmed to be that vicious all the time?"

"You know, it's actually quite good practice for using your magic while thinking on your feet, strategizing, and working as a team," he stated matter-of-factly. "Plus, you get to destroy people with snowballs."

She rolled her eyes at his deadpan response and moved to take in the view from the opposite direction.

"So where exactly are we?"

"Oh, just a haven for the rich and famous of the Wizarding world," he drawled, sipping on his whiskey and leaning back against a nearby stone wall.

"Charming," she bit out, tearing her eyes away from the landscape to take in the few impeccably dressed vacationers as they similarly enjoyed the view.

They spent the next hour drinking and talking about various family vacations they had both been on. Hermione stuck to the peach cider and tried in vain to convince Draco that her life growing up as a muggle was equally as exciting as his growing up as a wizard. She supposed he was at a bit of an advantage what with his family's crippling wealth, but she committed to arguing her side until the end. They began making a game of guessing what each of the guests were up to, something that involved just the right amount of judgement and creativity to fit both of their personalities.

"Clearly his mistress," Draco drawled, flicking his eyes to the couple leaning out over the balcony of the lodge a good 150 meters away.

"Why 'clearly'?" Hermione challenged. "Can't they just be a couple in love?" She looked a bit wistful as she heard the distant sound of a giggle as the man playfully tickled her side and bent down to whisper in her ear.

"Not a chance, though fair shot she's in love with his pocket book," he assured. "That's David Smelkin, notorious womanizer, last time I was here Astoria and I were taking bets on—" Hermione swore she heard nothing after he said her name, her heart had clenched so suddenly and it was all she could do to keep her face from twisting into a scowl.

"Astoria?" she tried for casual when he'd finished whatever his statement had been. "You two have vacationed here together?" Logically, as teenagers, she knew this likely wasn't the case, but she was holding her breath nonetheless.

"My family is very close with the Greengrasses, we've often traveled together on holiday," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Why, Granger? Are you jealous?"

And there it was. She knew from the devilish smirk on his face that she had not even come close to casual and she felt her cheeks flame in a mixture of shame and anger. She would have scoffed had she trusted herself to pull it off. Instead, she simply downed the rest of her drink and bit out a sharp "Don't be ridiculous."

"Is it ridiculous?" he pressed, standing up and moving over her. He had leaned down to place both hands on the wall on either side of her legs but she refused to give him the satisfaction of meeting his eye. She knew she was rubbish at hiding her emotions.

"Yes," she pushed him away and stood up, stalking off through the snow towards the copse of nearby trees. She didn't know where she was going but anything was better than seeing the smug, knowing look on the damn Slytherin's face. "That I could seriously be jealous of that-that-that, and there's no _reason_ for me to be jealous…"

"Really?" Draco had followed her over to the trees, drink abandoned but a strange glint in his eye. He moved in front of her and forced her to stop walking, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "No reason at all?"

Feeling overwhelmed by his teasing and the look he was giving her, Hermione let out a frustrated growl and shoved him away from her without thinking. She heard the unexpected thud as he stumbled back against the small tree they were near, and then everything went white. White and cold.

She would have shrieked if she hadn't been so shocked, it seemed that even the gentle force of him hitting the tree had been enough to cause a cascade of snow-ladden branches to relinquish their load and douse the two teenagers in a heap of snow. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity, but just as it was bubbling up inside her she was shocked into silence once more.

In the blink of an eye Draco had grabbed her, launching himself away from the tree and grabbing both her arms in a fierce embrace. He hesitated only a moment to scan her widened eyes, and then suddenly she felt his lips pressed against hers. His mouth was warm and soft, an exciting contrast against the cold of the snow they were both still covered in. He moved his lips firmly, with confidence, and she felt herself eagerly moving her lips back against him. As he moved a single hand up her back and into her hair she began to take notice of the rivulets of water running down both of their faces from the melting snow, and soon the kiss became wet and cold.

She felt so many emotions coursing through her in that moment, and despite the excitement and the eagerness it was hard to fight off the anxiety as well. She pushed away from him with a gasp, lips red and both breathing hard. Before she could say anything, another mass of snow crashed down over their heads.


	17. Chapter 17

_Hello! Thank you all for your lovely reviews! Enjoy :)_

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Hermione kept her head tucked down against the wind as she followed Draco back towards the warm, welcoming lights of the castle. The only sound between them was the crunch of their boots against the snow and the chattering of her teeth, a situation which left her with plenty of opportunity to stew in her own thoughts. Fortunately, at the moment most of her thoughts were focused on making it back indoors before she succumbed to the wet and the cold. After the second deluge of snow, preceded by a first deluge and several hours of being outdoors, it was clear that her body had hit its limit. The normal feeling in her fingers and toes had been replaced by a burning, persistent pain and she felt herself moving clumsily alongside Draco's much longer stride.

They had managed to draw quite a bit of attention from the guests of the lodge, many coming out to watch the sunset against the mountains only to find a pair of red faced, snow-caked teenagers. Hermione had felt embarrassed by the curious looks and even Draco, with his ever-present air of entitlement, seemed to have hit his limit and quickly apparated the pair back to the outskirts of the Hogwarts grounds. She had briefly tried fumbling in her pockets in an attempt to free her wand and perform a warming spell but her stiff fingers wouldn't comply. Draco had performed a quick drying spell on them both but it was clear that they needed to make it back inside.

Night had fallen fast and the rest of the students seemed to have wisely retreated back inside for a hot meal and the warmth of the common room fires. A quick glance back at the Quidditch pitch revealed a mess of snow but only a hint of the Slytherins' fortresses remained from the earlier snow fight. She couldn't decide if the silence was born out of awkwardness or simply a fixation on getting out of the cold, but in either case she felt incapable of focusing on anything other than walking quickly in a straight line.

The warm air hit them like a wall when they finally reached the doors of the front entrance and Hermione bit at her lip to keep herself from cursing at the tingles springing up through her warming extremities. With some regret she realized how chapped her lips were and couldn't help but wonder whether Draco had noticed and if he had been put off.

"Feel like abusing our power and having a house elf deliver dinner?" Her mouth was watering at the smells drifting from the dining hall, but she knew that a change of clothes should be their first priority.

"Sure," she agreed, following him once again as he led the way up to the fourth floor. "Bumbleweed," she muttered at the portrait, ignoring the look of curiosity on the face of the once-famous Charms inventress who guarded their dorm. The common room fire was blazing and she moved eagerly to stand in front of it.

"Finally!" The voice made her jump and she could feel Draco give a small start next to her.

"What in the world are you doing in here?" Hermione asked, swinging around to face the couches where she had somehow missed the sight of their interloper.

"That's some way to greet your teammate," he chuckled. "A team which, by the way, you abandoned to run off to who knows where with the _enemy_."

She attempted to throw a glove at him but her frozen arms meant that it flopped pathetically a few feet away from its intended target. Draco remained silent but walked away and disappeared into his room and Hermione could feel disappointment wash over her at his absence. She meant to follow his lead and retreat to her own room but somehow found herself collapsing cross-legged in front of the fire instead.

"Come on champ, let's get you out of these wet clothes," Blaise coaxed, standing and moving towards her with his arms outstretched. Grabbing onto his hands to help hoist herself up she realized that the warmth of the castle had melted more of the snow and she had indeed become all damp again. She allowed him to pull her up the stairs and didn't even really protest when he walked right into her room instead of waiting on the landing.

She felt thankful for being such a neat person, her bed was made and dirty clothes tucked neatly out of sight. He left her standing in the middle of the room as he walked over to her chest of drawers and began pulling various items out to set next to her on the bed. She rolled her eyes at his presumption but began peeling off her layers nonetheless, nearly dropping them on Crookshanks who had come to investigate.

"I'm not sure I trust your fashion sense," she said, knowing this was preposterous since he was always impeccably dressed.

"I'm not sure I trust yours," he called back, holding up a particularly shapeless tartan sweater. "Then again, _these_ are certainly interesting."

She whipped her head around hearing the sly tone of his voice, feeling her face heat up at the sight of her lacy black bra held up in his hands. It was a set that she had purchased on a whim at the beginning of the summer, and though not completely scandalous it was certainly a step above her usual fare.

"Please tell me you wear these under your uniform," he teased, smirking at the horrified look on her face.

"What's Granger wearing under her uniform?" came Draco's voice, his head poking into her room as he finished pulling a sweater down over his t-shirt. "Wow."

She hadn't been fast enough and found herself caught reaching awkwardly towards her bra as Blaise held it delicately aloft. Hoping to put an end to her unexpected humiliation she snatched it out of his hands and shoved it back into her drawer with a little more force than necessary.

"Both of you out, now," she bit out through clenched teeth. She tried not to look at Draco but allowed her eyes to wander just enough to catch the smirk on his face before he turned away and back towards the landing. "And there better be some tea waiting for me when I get down!" she called after their retreating forms.

Twenty minutes and a quick shower later she walked back down the staircase to see not only her tea but a bowl of steaming stew and some bread laid out on the table for her. The boys were tucking into their own food on the couch and she took a moment to observe them silently, unnoticed. Now that she had de-thawed she found her brain instantly fixating on the events from earlier in the day. She kept thinking about the surprise of the kiss, the feeling of his hands clasped around her arms and his warm lips moving against her mouth. It had by no means been a perfect kiss—it was cold, snow had been slipping into her boots, her lips had been chapped and dry and she had a sneaking suspicion that her nose had been running. Even so, it was impossible to deny the fluttering sensation in her chest as she ran it on a loop in her head.

"Going to join us, Princess?" She snapped out of her reflection and moved to join them on the couch, bringing her bowl of stew and making an attempt at easy nonchalance.

"So, did we win?" she asked.

"Not a chance," Draco scoffed, tossing a piece of bread into his mouth.

Blaise pursed his lip in mild annoyance. "I'm afraid that being down a player didn't exactly work in our favor, even with it being a terrible player like you."

"Hey!" Hermione protested, swallowing her mouth full of stew. "I wasn't that bad!"

"You were creative," Blaise patronized, eliciting a small laugh from Draco. "And you're in no place to gloat, your team didn't exactly fare much better. Are you going to tell me where you two were or should I just assume you were off snogging in the woods?"

Hermione almost choked on her food, her eyes watering as she coughed her way through the rush of embarrassment his comment brought out. Slytherins certainly were more direct than she was used to.

"We popped over to Chalet le Grand," Draco threw out casually, seemingly unbothered by his friend's question.

"Whoa, high end," Blaise whistled, a slight raise of his eyebrows revealing his actual surprise.

"I just figured that with ten months left, if she's going to be standing out in the snow there might as well be a nice view to match."

Hermione felt her breath catch and immediately looked away to avoid them seeing how Draco's words had affected her. It was the bluntness of the statement more than anything, coming after weeks of tacit silence on the subject. It's not like she was eager to be reminded of her illness, so she was happy to let the boys' process things in their own way without the need for long, drawn-out conversations on the subject.

From the corner of her eye she could see Draco sitting stiff as board and a quick glance revealed that he was staring stonily into the fire while Blaise focused in on his stew. She had wondered at his taking her there and it made her chest feel tight to think of the motivations that might have been swirling behind his casual facade.

When the silence had stretched to a nearly unbearable length, she felt the couch dip next to her and a warm arm came down around her shoulders. "How was good old France?" She felt Blaise's voice rumble through his body and she found herself subconsciously leaning into his frame. "Husband number four was particularly fond of the Alps if I'm remembering correctly."

"Number four?" Hermione asked, still unwilling to make eye contact. "How many of them were there?" It had come up that Blaise had quite the line of step-fathers, but four in only 17 years seemed unfathomable.

"Seven and counting! And not a one alive to tell the tale," he winked at her when she looked up in surprise and for a moment she felt she understood how people could be taken in by the Zabini charm.

"You're not serious…"

"Well, there might be one at St. Mungo's still. A stroke I think they said." Attempting to hide her disbelief, Hermione looked away and saw that Draco was still sitting rigidly, the vein in his neck betraying the tension he held.

"I'd never been before," she offered, finishing off her tea. "My family vacations were always to someplace warm, mum gets so down about the rain here.

"Can muggles vacation in the mountains? How do they get to the top?" Blaise shifted away from her to grab his glass of Firewhiskey he had placed on the end table.

"We drive, of course." She had explained cars to them when watching _Air Force One_ all those weeks ago.

"All the way to the top? How do you manage that?"

"Well, we drive partway up and then people put on their skis and use these machines called chairlifts to take us up to the very top." This managed to do the trick in getting Draco's attention, and she found two sets of eyes staring back at her in utter confusion. _James Bond_ , she made a mental note to herself. She knew the two Slytherins would enjoy the action and it would be an easier way to teach them about skiing than trying to describe it. She settled for just shaking her head and settling back against the couch with her cup of tea tucked between her cupped hands.

Draco moved to refill his tumbler from the bottle of Ogden's finest that was a staple of their common room, stopping to top up Blaise's glass as well.

"Thank you," she muttered softly once he had settled back down. His grey eyes held hers steadily, unreadable but for a bit of uncertainty. "For taking me there," she clarified, forcing herself not to look away. "It was very beautiful and I'm glad to have been." He only gave a slight nod but it was enough to ease the tension that had been sitting heavily in the room.

She knew she had plenty of homework waiting to be tackled, but after the afternoon's excitement she knew there was no hope of productivity. She settled for fetching her drawing supplies, leaning back again the arm of the couch to get comfortable while the boys picked up an ongoing debate on the merits of mastery of potions over charms.

There wasn't anything in particular she had been working on, so instead she looked around the room for inspiration. Her gaze lingered on the appealing profile that Draco made, but feeling that that would be too cliche of her she decided on Blaise instead. He was faced away from her and moving quite a bit but she thought it made a nice scene with the picture-window behind him. The planes of his face were all different from this angle, requiring a lot of focus, but even so she found her gaze slipping more often than not to the blonde sitting a few feet away. She had to stop and erase her work several times, her attention unwillingly split between their contrasting faces.

"You know, that's not a half bad idea." Blaise's declaration startled her out of her lackluster attempts.

"Huh?" Hermione asked. She hadn't really been paying attention to their conversation, but it seemed as though his statement had been directed at the room at large.

"So you agree that Bentorski's contributions to aura-strengthening potions has had a highly significant impact on the breakthroughs in Charms from the 19th century?" Draco seemed equally taken aback by his friend's outburst, his eyebrows scrunched in skepticism.

"No, no, no, you're all wrong about that, D. Total rubbish." Blaise waved his hand dismissively as he turned his body to face Hermione. "I meant what you said earlier, about taking our little Gryffindor Princess here to le Grande."

He seemed energized with an eager grin splitting across his face, but still Hermione wasn't following. "Umm, yeah. Like I said, it was nice…"

"Never say nice. We're Slytherins, _bella_ , we don't do nice. What I mean is that it was _important_."

"It was definitely important, if by that you mean I was able to keep from hexing a bunch of those silly fourth years," Draco muttered sarcastically.

"I'm being serious," Blaise insisted, and Hermione could tell he was. She just wasn't sure what he was being serious about. "We need to make a list."

"Will just any list do or did you have some particular idea for what to put on it?" She figured it was best to humor him, and somehow wasn't prepared for what he said next.

"We should make a bucket list. For you."

"Blaise." Draco's voice cut in sharply, his eyes holding a stern warning as they flashed briefly to Hermione's.

"No, I'm not trying to be morbid or insensitive. But this is a way we can help, this is something we could actually do!" he insisted, and by the look they exchanged she knew instantly that this was not the first time these two had had such a discussion. "Instead of going crazy trying not to think about it, or talk about, let's celebrate the fuck out of life and use our piles of money to do it!"

He had gotten to his feet by this point, moved by excitement, but Hermione was still stuck in place on the couch and not sure what to make of everything. She felt countless emotions rushing through her, a sense of uncertainty winning out. It's not like she wasn't familiar with the logic of what he was saying, it was practically a time-honored tradition in muggle literature in the event of an illness, aging, divorce, what-have-you. The Headmaster himself had given her similar, if cryptic, advice. But there was just so much to do, what with studying for NEWTS, her head girl duties, and searching through the magical medical texts.

"I wouldn't know what to do," she hedged, feeling awkward as the sudden focus of so much attention. "I've had a good life—"

"You've had a shit life," Draco interrupted, firmly but gently. "Potter and the Weasel-King have drug you about this way and that, tossing you into danger—"

"That's not fair!" she broke in, starting to feel angry. "I was just as responsible for dragging _them_ on those adventures, and we were fighting for something we believed in, or have you forgot already?"

"This shouldn't be a fight," Blaise broke in, stepping between the two teens to prevent them from glaring at each other. "This should be obvious. Let's. Do. Fun. Things. For heaven's sake, we've lost classmates and family already, there's no point in sitting around and waiting to lose one more. No offense," he hastened to add, glancing at her warily to gauge how she might be reacting to his impromptu speech. She was unwilling to commit to her emotions either way and so continued to glare in Draco's general direction.

"It doesn't just have to be fun," he continued. "It should be scary too."

"Halloween's over," Draco deadpanned, but Blaise brushed him off.

"Scary, like things that take guts. Things that we wouldn't normally do but that we should do anyway. Things like an art show," he turned his enthusiasm back to Hermione. "You're always drawing, and you're good, and people should see that!"

He walked over and snatched up the drawing she had been working on, prepared to hold it up as a testament to the logic of his argument. "People should—hang on, this is terrible. What were you trying to draw?"

"Give it back!" she implored, blushing as she scrambled to reclaim her notebook. Unfortunately, she was missing a good seven inches to make that an effective strategy.

"Is this supposed to be me?" he continued, face contorted in distaste.

"You were moving around a lot, it's hard when you keep shifting!" _It's also hard when you keep staring at Draco,_ her subconscious piped in mockingly. A quick glance at said blonde showed that he had no plans to intervene on her behalf, apparently content to sit back and watch the show.

"Where's the one you did of me the other day?" he asked, beginning to turn back pages. "That one ought to be up on a wall."

She made one last leap to try and grab the notebook from his hands, she knew what was going to happen next.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" Blaise looked down at her with a smirk, his eyes flashing with glee. " _This_ is certainly something." She wasn't surprised to see that he was holding the drawing she had done of Draco all those weeks ago, a charcoal snapshot of his hands gripped provocatively around his tie.

"It's nothing," she managed to squeak out through the mortification.

"Looks like you found yourself quite the model. And is that a Slytherin tie I'm seeing poking out from those manly fingers…"

Hermione thought she might spontaneously combust from embarrassment, though while her face was becoming a dangerous shade of red Draco appeared to remain cool as a cucumber.

"Interested, B? I thought you only had eyes for a certain sixth year these days," Draco drawled. Blaise simply smirked in return and Hermione seized on the opportunity to jump up and reclaim her notebook, tucking it self-consciously behind one of the couch cushions.

"Let's watch a movie!" she declared, desperate to put an end to the conversation that had gotten wildly out of hand. No one better than James Bond to step in and save the day! As she looked back over her shoulder on her way up the stairs, she caught a quick wink and subtle smirk from a pair of stormy grey eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

_Happy Sunday afternoon, everyone! I'm so excited that this story has made it to 500 followers, and over 150 reviews - it's great to know that folks are connecting with the story!_

 _Hope everyone enjoys this next chapter_ :)

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"Wow, Neville, this is really good!" Hermione handed back the essay she had been looking over, pleased to know there had only been a few areas where she had made corrections or suggestions in the margin.

"Thanks," her housemate colored a bit at the compliment, accepting the pages back with a shy smile. "It's so nice of you to look this over, Gran will be so proud of me if I manage to pull an E in Charms on my N.E.W.T. this year!"

"No problem!" Hermione chuckled a bit to herself, thinking of all the hours she had spent over the past sixth years looking over Harry and Ron's class assignments. She actually really enjoyed helping her classmates with their work when it was just giving suggestions or minor edits. With her former friends it seemed like she often put in more effort than they had, but it was easy to look past that given the war and the stress they were all under at the time. In any event, one bonus of their estrangement was all the time it freed up from not constantly looking over their assignments.

The pair of Gryffindors continued studying in amiable silence, their status as seventh years having secured them a relatively quiet corner of the library that Sunday afternoon. The cold weather hadn't exactly let up but the sun was at least out, motivating a decent number of students to brave the outdoors in a last bid to burn off energy before classes resumed Monday morning. Neville was slowly making his way through the comments she made on his assignment while Hermione scribbled away furiously on a sheet of parchment.

The previous day had been an emotional rollercoaster for the bushy-haired Head Girl. Using the James Bond movie as distraction had proven to be a brilliant idea, but while Draco and Blaise had been captivated by the story her brain had been miles away, running in circles. She was embarrassed by Blaise's teasing. though she knew he meant no harm. She was both nervous and excited about her kiss with Draco, though if she thought about it too long a whole heap of uncertainties began pouring in. Then of course there was Blaise's spontaneous declaration that they make her a "bucket list"… All in all it had been a miracle that she had managed to get any work done today at all.

As it was, she had managed to take inspiration from one thing the night before and was busy drafting out the potential logistics. She didn't love the idea of an art show, that would mean WAAAAAAAAYYY too much attention focused on her, however—

"Hey Neville," she waited until her friend's green eyes had looked up to meet hers. "What do you think of the idea of Hogwarts hosting a big, inter-school competition and showcase this year?"

"Umm, do you mean like the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" he seemed curious but confused.

"No, nothing like that god-awful thing! Though, maybe the basic outline is a helpful reference," she conceded, waving her hand dismissively. "I was thinking it could be a chance to compete in sporting events against the other schools, match our top Quidditch team against the best from other schools, same with Swimming and Dueling, and there could be performances by the Drama clubs and the Choirs and the Dance troupes," she rushed out, her words coming faster and faster as she shared the ideas she'd been working. "And maybe there could be lectures from some of the visiting professors, I hear that Durmstrang teaches Alchemy, and maybe we could even invite some of the schools outside of Europe…"

"Woah, Hermione, slow down!" Neville jokingly held his hands up to proverbially protect against her onslaught of ideas.

She took a deep breath and pressed her lips together, smiling at him in apology for her burst of verbal energy.

"I think that sounds like a bloody brilliant idea!" he continued enthusiastically. "But, do you think there'd still be time to plan it? We're practically half-way through November."

"If I can get the staff on board, I think it could be done," she leaned forward to show him the paper she had been writing on, revealing complex charts and lists of everything that would need to happen to pull off the end-of-year extravaganza she had in mind.

"Why am I surprised?" he rolled his eyes at her good-naturedly as he reached out to take the parchment from her hands.

"You're not," she shot back cheekily, watching him look over her work with eager eyes. She was quite proud of her draft plan, it had been fueled by the perfect combination of inspiration and avoidance.

"Do we have counterparts at these other schools? People who could help us coordinate all of this?" Neville gestured at the portion of her plan involving the structure and various participants she was proposing.

"Draco and I do, I was just reading the other day about the different student government structures at Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. If I can get McGonagall to sign on I'm sure she would help get us in touch."

"I say go for it then, if anyone can pull something like this off it's you," he smiled at her in encouragement and Hermione felt a gush of appreciation for his friendship.

"Would you be interested in helping? I'm going to need a top-notch student task force." In the back of her mind, Hermione thought that what she'd really need was someone to take over the project for her. She knew that the Headmaster would never go for her idea if she didn't find someone else to take point, someone whom he hadn't already scolded for taking on too many responsibilities. Neville eagerly agreed, and she shook away her morbid thoughts in favor of brainstorming a few additional details with him.

Twenty minutes later she felt satisfied with the state of her draft proposal and she cast a replication charm so that Neville could have a copy of the edits the two had made. Having temporarily finished with that she began eyeing her books again, knowing it would probably be a good idea to get a head start on her assignments due later in the week. She couldn't quite make up her mind on what she wanted to work on, so she distracted herself by glancing over at what Neville was working on instead.

"Is that stuff for Herbology?" she asked, seeing that he was reviewing some plant diagrams.

"Well—" he seemed to hesitate, raising her curiosity. "I'm actually looking over something for Harry." Hermione felt her jaw clench at the mention of her former friend, but really she supposed it wasn't that surprising. They were dorm-mates and friends still as far as she knew.

"That's nice of you," she replied, taking that as a sign that she should stop procrastinating and get back to her own work. She was just about to open her Potions textbook when Neville sighed and set his quill down.

"Hermione, have you—I just—you probably haven't noticed, but—do you think Harry's been acting a little strange lately?" She could hear how nervous he was, his voice having dropped to a soft whisper and his eyes shining bright with guilt and concern.

"Ummmm, I'm not sure. I haven't really been in a position to make that sort of judgement…" she trailed off, awkwardly. The truth was she _had_ been thinking that he'd been a bit off, even from the brief interactions she had with him.

"But that's part of what I mean, you know?" Neville pressed. "His behavior toward you this year, it just doesn't really seem like him, does it? I don't know all the details about what happened between you three last summer, and I don't really need to know," he hastened to add, seeing the dark look on Hermione's face. "I'm just really surprised by it, he's always been so loyal to his friends."

"Well, he's certainly being loyal to _one_ of us," she muttered bitterly, fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater in an attempt to keep her emotions at bay. She really didn't want to be having this conversation.

"He's been missing a lot," Neville pressed on, still keeping his voice low. "I've no idea where he gets off to, and neither does Ginny, apparently, they've been rowing more and more. When he is around he seems really distracted, like his mind is always on something else…" Hermione narrowed her eyes, thinking back to a few weeks ago when she had run into him on the Quidditch pitch. His arm had been hurt, and she remembered thinking at the time that it was a bit strange. She opened her mouth to add her observations to Neville's list but in the end she thought better of it, not feeling emotionally equipped to get into a discussion on the disposition of her former-best friend.

"I'm sorry," Neville apologized, giving her a sad smile. "Didn't mean to go dredging up sensitive stuff. It's just that, honestly, both Harry and Ron have been acting really strange all year. A lot of people have. You'd think the aftermath of the War would be one gigantic celebration but it feels like there's still these massive fissures that we're all tiptoeing around. Things are still pretty broken, huh?" He gave a wistful grimace before dropping the topic and returning to the work in front of him.

Hermione pretended to be reading her Potions book but she didn't register a word.

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Dinner that night was a remarkably tolerable affair. Hermione joined Luna and Neville at the Ravenclaw table, a decidedly less-hostile experience that sitting with her own house and with good company beside. It wasn't that the Eagles were particularly warm, but a few of her classmates engaged her in polite conversation and overall the change of scenery was nice. It was still early but she wanted to make some more headway on her proposal so she headed back to her room intent on doing just that.

One distinct advantage of sitting with the Ravenclaws was their proximity to the Slytherin table, though she would firmly deny that such a thought had crossed her mind. She had had an downright excellent view of Draco for the past half hour and was delighted when she saw him join the group of Slytherin seventh years half-way through her own meal. He had seemed engaged and content with his friends, though she noticed that he was a lot more reserved in places like the dining hall and classrooms than he was in their common room. His whole persona changed and came alive when he was relaxed, and she smiled to herself upon realizing that she was now fully privy to this well-hidden side of him.

"Hey there, Crooks," she cooed at her smooched-faced feline, running a hand absently along his back as she made her way up the stairs of her common room so she could deposit her bag in her room. Crookshanks followed her up, meowing loudly just in case she had forgotten that it was, in fact, his dinner time. She allowed herself a small eye roll at his demanding appetite, filling his bowl quickly before slipping into a pair of loose cotton pants so she could be more comfortable working on the couch.

The common room was nice and toasty from the fire that the house elves kept well tended on the weekends, and she was almost tempted to curl up with a book instead of her plans for the "Inter-School Extravaganza", as she and Neville had taken to calling it. She sat on the couch staring at the proposal in her lap for a good forty seconds before giving up, setting it aside, and walking back towards her room for her book. She had only made it up the first few steps when she heard the portrait door swing open, causing her to look over in mild surprise.

"You're back early," she joked, raising a single eyebrow as her roommate made his way inside. Draco typically spent a few hours on Sunday evening in the Slytherin common room working on various sporting strategies with various sporting teams—to be honest she never did pay too much attention to exactly what it was he was doing there.

She had turned her body on the staircase to face him and watched with interest as he moved silently across the room. He had yet to say a word since coming through the door and Hermione found herself growing nervous at the intent look on his face. He dropped his bag gracefully to the ground in the middle of the floor and, before she could voice any of the questions that had been building up inside her, she suddenly found herself face to face with one Draco Malfoy.

Well, 'face to face' may have been a bit of an over-exaggeration. Even two steps up he still had a good couple inches on her, but it was certainly a different view than the one she normally had. She felt overwhelmed by his proximity, and even though he had approached her rather slowly his prolonged silence was unnerving her and she felt a sudden urge to turn and run away up the stairs. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out and for a few moments frozen in time they simply stared into each other's eyes as her heart began to beat expectantly in her chest.

Unlike their encounter just the day before, this time Draco moved slowly and smoothly, giving her every opportunity to turn away or push him back. She didn't, though, and soon his lips were gently pressed against her own, his hand resting delicately along the curve of her neck. She allowed her eyes to fall closed and gave a small sigh, her lips parting just enough for his to slide more firmly in against hers. He tasted like chicken and herbs and when she hesitantly swiped her tongue against his bottom lip she had a flash of being back at dinner in the great hall.

He made a deep groaning sound in the back of his throat, his fingers moved to get a better grip on her neck and he pulled her firmly against him as he stepped closer and onto the stair beneath hers. His increased height forced her head to tilt back and she moved her hands instinctually to his shoulders in an effort to steady herself. _Unlike_ the day before, there was no snow or cold or chapped lips. She was able to pick up on small details that had been utterly lost to her the first time around, such as the slight stubble lining his jaw and the expensive, masculine scent that seemed to cling to his skin.

Since getting back the night before there hadn't been an opportunity yet for her to bring up their kiss, and from Draco's current actions it didn't seem like that was any great priority for him. Normally Hermione preferred to talk things out, being generally more rational than emotional, but the heat currently building in her body drove all thoughts of conversation from her head. However, before they could get too carried away, a knock sounded at the door to their common room and she found herself stumbling back from him in a panic, embarrassed at the thought of being caught in such a position.

She was betrayed by her lack of coordination and managed to catch her heel against the step and fell back on her butt, hard.

" _Ouch,_ " she gasped out, the impact catching her by surprise. Draco was staring down at her in confusion, the movement of his chest belying his increased breathing.

"What was that?" he asked, his grey eyes narrowing in concern as he reached a hand out to help pull her back to her feet.

"Someone's at the door," she muttered, feeling silly and self-conscious that she had managed to make a fool out of herself by falling on her bum. For a moment it looked like he didn't quite believe her, but then the knock came again and she saw his eyes narrow slightly.

"Bloody wait a second!" he called irritably over his shoulder, an annoyed scowl settling on his face. He was still holding her hand and she had a strong urge to just lean back into him and pick up where they had left off, but she was much too polite to ignore whomever had come seeking them out.

"Shall we…" she trailed off, gesturing at the portrait hole as she attempted to tamp down the awkwardness threatening to overwhelm her. Though he said nothing, Draco gave an exasperated sigh before pushing away from her and marching to the door in long, quick strides.

"This better be good," he ground out upon reaching the portrait hole, and Hermione had a moment of pity for whomever was on the other side of the door.

"Uh, I didn't mean to bother you," squeaked out one of the fifth year Hufflepuff Prefects. "It's just that Ben ended up in the hospital wing today and I can't seem to find any other Prefect to patrol with me this evening…" she trailed off, looking more than a little uncomfortable at having to deal with an obviously pissed off Head Boy.

"And you're just dealing with this now? Didn't your patrol start five minutes ago?" Hermione could tell that Draco was in no mood for the unexpected interruption and prepared to intervene.

"It _would_ have been nice to have more warning, Marissa, but I can fill in this evening," she offered, coming to join them. Draco simply sighed, running a hand through his hair before walking over to his discarded bag and pulling out his wand.

"No, I've got it," he offered, obviously still annoyed. "It will be easier to have someone who can check the boy's bathrooms."

Hermione offered a small smile in thanks, she really hadn't been looking forward to the unanticipated rounds that evening. But then again, her plans seemed incredibly less appealing now compared to the events from a few moments ago. He gave her a quick glance before disappearing out into the hall, and though it looked like he might say something in the end he left without a word.

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Hermione cursed at herself for the third time that afternoon as she was yet again forced to cross out the notes she was taking during Professor Flitwick's lecture. It was only Wednesday but it felt like it had been forever since the distracting events of the past weekend. She dipped her quill back into her inkwell and attempted to correctly copy down the complex instructions on wand-movement that they were currently going over.

It was almost impossible to keep her gaze from slipping to Draco where he sat with Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass a few rows in front of her. It wasn't uncommon these days for the two head students to sit together during Advanced Charms, but given her current state of distraction Hermione felt relieved at having arrived a bit late and being forced to take a seat in the back of the classroom. She had spent the past three days oscillating between avoiding the common room and surreptitiously lingering there, seemingly unable to make up her mind as to whether or not she was hiding from her roommate or hoping for a repeat of Sunday night.

It was much easier to puzzle through this when she wasn't sitting close enough to smell his cologne or accidentally brush up against his arm. Their Arithmancy lesson the day before had been an exercise in control, and Hermione would have sworn that he was purposefully finding ways to "accidentally" bump against her. She gave her head a small shake, trying to remind herself that she was supposed to be concentrating on the lecture. Of course when she wasn't sneaking looks at the blonde Slytherin she found herself staring at Harry instead, causing a hot wave of guilt to spike through her chest.

Here she was, day dreaming in class and fantasizing about her roommate when all the while it was increasingly clear that something was going on with her former best friend. He was sitting next to Neville towards the front of the classroom but instead of focusing on the lecture he remained staring at his notebook, occasionally writing something down. She hadn't been able to forget Neville's words from a days earlier and had taken to watching him covertly during classes and meal times. In the past she would have confronted him and demanded to know what was happening, but that was obviously out of the question given the events of the last few months. Besides, it's not like he really deserved her concern given his behavior, she thought grumpily.

She slid her eyes back to Draco, deciding that view was much preferred. She enjoyed the way his robes stretched across his torso and the muscles in his back moved as he wrote rapidly in his notebook. His hair was tousled and messy from his habit of dragging his fingers through it, leaving her to wonder what it would feel like to run her own hands through the honey blond locks. Were they as silky as they looked? _Probably,_ she gave a small chuckle as she thought of the expensive looking bottle of shampoo sitting on his shelf of their bathroom. _Dammit_ , and there she went losing focus again.

The lecture finally came to a close and she scolded herself for being so distracted. She thought about asking to borrow Draco's notes later that evening, but she didn't want to risk him asking about her reasons for not taking notes—he had a big enough ego that it wouldn't take long for him to make a correct guess. She could just steal them when he wasn't looking or ask Neville to borrow his. She packed away her supplies and joined the throng of students moving into the hall, glad that classes were over for the day.

"Princess! Wait up!" Hermione cringed as Blaise's voice carried down the corridor, earning her more than a few looks from her fellow students.

"I will hex you," she threatened, giving him a sharp jab with her elbow to reinforce her point.

"Sure, sure," he waved her off, slinging a friendly arm around her shoulders in the now familiar gesture.

"Haven't you learned by now, Granger? If you're not careful he'll just find something even more embarrassing to shout through the halls." Hermione wasn't surprised to see that Draco had joined them but her eyes widened at his words. Now that she thought about it, that was an almost GUARANTEED outcome…

"Fine," she groused. "But I will eventually find an opportunity for retaliation."

"Looking forward to it, Princess," Blaise winked at her. "Now, we've really got a lot of work to do. I propose we grab a quick bite of dinner and then we can review my first draft."

"Pardon?" Hermione felt genuinely confused. "I think I would have noticed had we been paired on any class assignments recently."

"Is school work all you ever think about?" he tutted at her. "I'm talking about our HLLLL list!" At this, her confusion turned to a full-on scowl. Blaise had not given up his bucket list idea and had even gone so far as to nickname it, pronounced "Hell" and standing for "Hermione's Living Large and Loving Life" list. She hated it.

"Absolutely not," she declared, firmly. "Your project has been officially scrapped after that 'draft' you sent me on Monday." He had actually had the gall to send her a beautifully scripted list via the morning owl post composed entirely of lurid, not to mention painfully detailed, sexual acts. It had taken her three attempts to find a spell that would actually destroy it since he had charmed it to resist the basic fire and vanishing charms.

"That was a masterpiece!" Blaise smirked at her, and the matching smirk on Draco's face confirmed that he hadn't been as innocent as he had claimed earlier in the week.

"Nope, I'm officially retracting the permission I _never gave_ _you_ to make lists of any kind having anything to do with me."

"Spoilsport," Blaise teased, obviously not taking her seriously in the least. "Let's start with food and go from there, I'm starving."

"Actually," Hermione paused and pulled away from his side as they neared the moving staircases. "I have an appointment I need to keep, sorry."

"Secret boyfriend?" Draco asked casually, though his eyes betrayed his displeasure at the suggestion.

"Hospital wing," she muttered in reply, not entirely sure how comfortable she was sharing that. She was supposed to be meeting Madam Pomfrey in order to receive the latest treatment her team of healers had concocted for her.

"Right," Draco looked a bit sheepish, and even Blaise seemed momentarily out of his element. Then, after an awkward few seconds of silence, "Do you want some company?"

Hermione looked up in surprise. She hadn't been expecting Draco to make such an offer. "Ummm, well I—uh—I suppose there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to… But I'm sure you don't actually want to sit around with me for an hour, it's quite boring."

"Nonsense!" Blaise had easily recovered and quickly replaced his arm back around her shoulders. "We'll be dying of hunger while you're dying of cancer, so we'll fit right in!"

"B!" Draco half-reprimanded, half-groaned as he punched his friend in the arm. Hermione agreed the joke was in terribly poor taste, and yet she couldn't help but feel a bit better as the trio turned and made their way to the upper levels of the castle.

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 _Thanks for reading!_


	19. Chapter 19

_Hello all - so glad that I'm able to get out another update for you before the end of the weekend, hopefully folks will get the chance to read this before work starts up again on Monday._

 _Thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chapter! It's always exciting to read people's comments on how the story is progressing, it sounds like more and more of you are getting curious about Harry! That will definitely be addressed down the road but for now you'll have to console yourselves with plain old Dramione goodness ;)_

 _I will admit that I've been struggling a lot in writing the more PG-13 scenes, definitely feels a bit stiff but I promise I'm trying to get better! A few of you have left encouraging comments and I really appreciate the feedback and glad that I've been successful so far in mentally transporting folks._

 _As a final note before getting back to the story, I don't have anyone reviewing my stuff before I post so there are unfortunately a few typos and minor story-line errors scattered throughout. It's my goal to begin working back through what I've written and making those corrections, so just a warning that there might be super-minor tweaks (97% will just be clean up)._

 _With that, let's get to it!_

 _P.S. Happy 4th of July to any of you Americans out there, and Happy Belated Canada Day for the Canadians :)_

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As planned, Hermione let herself into a small room on the side of the infirmary's main entrance where a series of private rooms had been set up to handle the more delicate cases that made their way to the school nurse. She remembered how chagrinned Madam Pomfrey had looked last week when she admitted to Hermione that there was a stretch in the late 70's when a bunch of students had fallen pregnant, leading to Hogwarts' now mandatory sexual education courses and increased security in the house dorms. These were the fun facts that were unfortunately not included in her _Hogwarts, a History_ book, and Hermione had been tickled to learn some of the school's more salacious history.

The room had been set-up specifically for her weekly use and she set her bag down by the small table before walking to a second door at the far side of the room. She tapped her wand against the doorframe and muttered a quick spell to activate a signal on the other side, knowing that Madam Pomfrey would see the glowing light and know that Hermione has arrived.

"Make yourselves comfortable," she offered, gesturing around at the plain room. It was quite small and really only had a single arm chair and the small table, but both boys settled in easily without complaint.

Hermione rubbed her hands nervously against her skirt as she stood stiffly in the middle of the room. It was still a few minutes before her scheduled appointment and she could feel her own discomfort threatening to erupt at any moment. She had the sudden urge to go and warn Poppy that she had company today, even if just to give her something to do, but before her body could kick into gear there was a soft knock and Madam Pomfrey's head appeared through the door.

"I'll just be a minute, Hermione, I need to finish attending to—" Madam Pomfrey cut off mid-sentence, catching sight of the two boys sitting nonchalantly at the small table. "I see you brought friends," she recovered almost immediately, though the surprise was evident in her slightly-widened eyes. "In that case I won't worry about leaving you a few minutes longer while I deal with Mr. Creevey here." She gave Hermione a quick, curious smile before disappearing and closing the door with a soft _click_.

Deciding that it was only making her more anxious to remain standing in the middle of the room, Hermione turned to sit in the soft arm chair. Her butt was perched on the very edge of the cushion and she felt a tad ridiculous for being so on edge. It wasn't a secret that she had become friends with the Slytherins, it had been prime gossip for weeks, but she supposed that bringing them to a private medical procedure WAS a bit of a different matter. She had a second of wondering whether the gossip had even reached the school nurse, laughing at the thought of her professors discussing the latest school rumors over breakfast or in passing in the halls.

Draco and Blaise were both diligently studying, or perhaps pretending to diligently study, but Hermione felt like she would choke on the silence if it continued for even a moment longer. "So, ummm, well this is weird, isn't it?"

"You're right," Draco drawled sarcastically, not bothering to look up from his notes. "The three of us sitting in a room, studying, very odd."

"He's right, Princess," Blaise leaned back in his chair and gave her an easy smile. "It's only weird if you make it weird. So stop making it weird."

Hermione blew out an annoyed huff of air, secretly begrudging their calm demeanors. She ducked her head and tucked her hands underneath her thighs to stop herself from fidgeting, feeling childish in comparison to the two seemingly-unruffled Slytherins. A moment later she felt a tiny bump as a paper bird landed in her lap, delicately flapping its wings. She opened it gently, feeling herself calm at the single word written inside - _Relax._ Draco was watching her when she looked up and she offered him a sincere smile in acknowledgement.

"So what's the drill here, anyway?" Blaise asked, casually flipping his wand between his fingers in a complex, impressive display of dexterity.

"Nothing scary," she replied, not only to reassure them but also to remind herself. "We started a new treatment plan last week, it's just a combination of potions and direct magical application. It doesn't hurt or anything, I just have to stay still for an hour and I need to be monitored. Just in case, you know?" Seeing their nods, she decided she might as well share a little more. She hadn't really shared many of the details with them yet and she figured they were probably curious. She would be.

"I have a team of healers assigned to me operating out of St. Mungo's," she continued. "For now the treatments are straightforward enough that Madam Pomfrey can attend to me, but sometimes a few of them come out here and I'm sure I'll have to nip over to the main hospital at some point."

"Do you have a good specialist on the team?" Draco asked quickly, seriously. He wasn't meeting her eyes but she could tell that she had both boys' full attention.

"My healers have been great," Hermione assured him. "The head of the team is a witch from—"

"Okay, here we go. Sorry about the delay," Madam Pomfrey came bustling back into the room, a cheery smile on her face.

"No problem, Poppy," Hermione stood up, feeling her nerves creep up again. "You know Blaise and Draco, obviously. They thought they'd come keep me company today if it's no bother to you."

"Of course they're welcome!" Madam Pomfrey assured her, using her wand to summon a small stand and setting down her tray of potions. "You boys are looking so grown now, it felt like just yesterday when I had Mr. Malfoy in here crying over that broken nose you gave him," she winked conspiratorially at Hermione. "I hope he makes a better visitor than he does a patient!"

Hermione tried and failed to smother her laughter, enjoying the satisfying memory from third year.

"Please, Malfoys never cry," Draco intoned haughtily, the hint of pink on his cheeks giving him away.

"I forgot about that," Blaise chuckled. "Please do tell us more about Drakey's most embarrassing moments. Which other little girls have managed to beat him up?"

"Well…" Madam Pomfrey began until being quickly cut off by the flustered blonde.

"No other girls have beat me up! Let's just let her do her job, yeah?" Draco could recall another occasion when the she-Weasley had sent him to the hospital wing from a particularly strong hex, no need to have his reputation compromised further—especially among friends.

"Right," Madam Pomfrey bit back a grin and slipped into a more professional mode. "Give us just a second, gentlemen." Hermione was grateful to see the nurse conjure a simple curtain around the arm chair. The procedure required her to wear a simple wrap around her torso, it held a special poultice designed to concentrate magical energy towards certain areas of her body. It was easy to put on, but she hadn't been looking forward to exposing her stomach in front of the two boys. Madam Pomfrey moved quickly and efficiently and soon Hermione was sitting back comfortably in the chair, a simple bulge around her midsection the only evidence of the wrap.

"Alright dear, same routine as last time," the older witch instructed as she took down the curtain. "Go ahead and drink this one and then I'll start with the spells."

Hermione reached for the brownish-looking potion in a simple glass jar, very aware of the two sets of eyes casually observing her movement. It wasn't a very appetizing concoction, and she had to hold her breath as she drank it down quickly in a few big gulps. She didn't feel much change but she knew the magic was hard at work inside her body. Everyone remained silent while Madam Pomfrey conducted a few spells, a few bright lights appearing and circling Hermione's torso before being absorbed into the wrap. She was just starting to feel the awkwardness build again when Blaise jumped in to the rescue.

"So, Poppy, was it? Who does a guy have to charm around here to get some dinner?" he purred. _Completely shameless_ , Hermione thought as she observed the flirtatious waggling of his eyebrows. To be fair, she did have to acknowledge that the boy knew how to get what he wanted.

"No food allowed in the hospital wing, Mr. Zabini, unless you are a patient."

"Don't you think you could make an exception, given the circumstances? We'd hate to leave Hermione here all by herself just for the sake of a little dinner…" he cajoled smoothly. Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"Well, I suppose the circumstances are a bit…unique…" Madam Pomfrey hedged, giving the three students an assessing look. "I'll have a house elf bring up something from the kitchens. Though none for you right now," she reminded Hermione, looking apologetic. "Just drink that one there is 20 minutes, I'll be back to run a few tests in a bit and remember, no moving around."

Hermione grimaced a bit at the sight of the two remaining potions but nodded all the same. It could frankly have been a lot worse.

"Can one of you please bring my bag over?" she asked, ready for her hour of immobility to commence.

Draco stood and brought her books over to her chair as Madame Pomfrey returned to the main infirmary. "Now I see why you invited us here, you needed someone to wait on you," he drawled, setting her things against the base of the chair.

"As I recall, you're the ones who invited yourselves along," she pointed out, raising a single eyebrow in challenge.

"Oh, right," he smirked. Placing both hands against the cushioned arms of the chair, he leaned in close until his mouth was right next to her ear. "Need to borrow my Charms notes, Granger?"

She shivered even as she felt her face flush in embarrassment. _How in the world does the prat know I was spacing out in Charms?_ Before she could form an indignant denial she was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing.

"Knock off the whispering, this list isn't going to write itself you know. I require your full attention."

"So needy," Draco muttered before rolling his eyes and pushing away from the chair. "Let's see what you've got so far," he directed at Blaise, pulling his seat around so that he could look at the sheaf of parchment in front of the other wizard.

"Stop it, both of you!" she scolded, exasperated that Blaise was still insisting on his stupid HLLLL project. "There is no list!"

"You know, if you keep being such a spoilsport I'm going to have to write this whole thing without you. Something tells me you wouldn't want to let that happen," the insinuation was clear, and Hermione once again remembered the detailed list she had received earlier in the week. Some of those positions hadn't even seemed humanly possible!

"Does it really bother you?" Draco asked, fixing her with a questioning stare. It was a fair question given the degree of stubbornness she'd been displaying. The truth was that while logically she could acknowledge the benefits of such a project, emotionally it made her feel like she was up high, balanced on a thin wire, and about to fall off to either side.

"I—I suppose it makes me a bit anxious…" she admitted, playing with one of her curls to avoid seeing their reactions. "Can we just agree to not make it a big deal? Or maybe—maybe we can use things that you guys want to do instead?"

When she lifted her head she caught them both exchanging a wordless glance, conversing in that silent manner that some of the Slytherins seemed so adept at. She couldn't detect a single movement on either of their faces, and for a second she wondered if some errant spell had rendered them frozen. Finally, Blaise gave an almost imperceptible nod and the moment was broken.

"Granger, let me make you a deal," she narrowed her eyes at Draco, feeling instantly wary. "What's that thing that you've been bugging me to take a look at? Something-Extravaganza?"

"Inter-School Extravaganza," she sighed, already knowing where he was going with this. "You would really hold my proposal hostage over some list?"

"Nobody said hostage. Well, you said hostage," he amended, "but I was merely suggesting a simple exchange of parchment."

"What do you want?" she could sense that she was on the verge of defeat but still wanted to make sure that the terms were clear.

"You add three things to the list, and we'll review your proposal. Sound fair?" She could tell by the glint in his eye that he was confident that she would accept his proposition, and honestly it did sound like an okay compromise. Surely she could think up three things that she wanted to do?

"Deal," she conceded, ignoring their triumphant looks.

"I've already added a few that I think you might like," Blaise jumped up eagerly to show her the list that he had taken out earlier. "Just some stuff for inspiration, there's no wrong answers."

"Oh, I think you've proven that there are some _very_ wrong answers," Hermione insisted as she accepted the list, her pointed look a reminder of the first set of ideas he had given her.

"Those weren't _wrong_ , they were _wicked_ ," Blaise teased leeringly. "And half of them were Draco's," he whispered the last part so that only she could hear, causing a hot blush to once more spread across her cheeks. It was a struggle not to give a flippant retort, but she figured that anything she said in that moment would have done more harm than good.

She reluctantly settled in with her list after handing over two copies of her now polished proposal, she actually had an appointment with Professor McGonagall later that evening to present her initial ideas. A house elf interrupted them a few minutes later to bring the promised food and Hermione felt a moment of jealousy having to smell the delicious meal while all she had was two terrible-tasting potions to choke down. It wasn't long before Madam Pomfrey returned to run a few diagnostic tests, giving the scheming Slytherins the perfect opportunity to throw her under the metaphorical bus.

Blaise wasted no time in thanking the school nurse for sending up dinner before casually, seamlessly, asking her if she had any suggestions for the list of activities the three were working on to make the most of their final year at Hogwarts. While he didn't outright mention that it was a bucket list it was clear that Madam Pomfrey had been able to read between the lines.

"What a terrific idea," she enthused, miraculously missing the glares Hermione was sending her meddlesome friend. She did indeed have many suggestions to offer, but Hermione found herself only half listening. Blaise's suggestions had been surprisingly decent, but it was like her brain just refused to concentrate. She wondered if they would consider it cheating if she just put check marks next to three of his suggestions without offering any other input. _Probably_ , she admitted grumpily.

Forty minutes and two potions later she had been given the all-clear from Madam Pomfrey and all three students headed into the corridor with promises to see her next week, same time, same place. Hermione hadn't made any progress and it was with a mixture of guilt and frustration that she handed back the list, practically unchanged.

"Let's see what we have," Blaise accepted the list eagerly, his smile quickly replaced by an exasperated frown. "You didn't add anything!"

"I did so," she defended herself weakly, fiddling with the strap of her bag. "And I approved one of your items!"

Draco wordlessly put his hand out, asking to see the paper. "You wrote: _Drink wine_. Is that all?" He sounded like he was trying but struggling to hide his irritation.

"Yes," she shot back, not in the mood to be reprimanded.

"Okay," he conceded levelly. "And you approved B's suggestion of the Viennese Opera?" She nodded cautiously. It had sounded like a fun idea after all, and not something that she'd ever had the chance to experience.

Blaise took a deep breath and she could tell that both boys were fighting their instincts to say something to her, but as always their cool, calm facade won out in the end. "Here's your proposal back, it looks really well though out," he handed back the packet of papers she had handed him earlier. "Thank you for trying," he added sincerely after a short pause. "I've got to run to drama club, catch you both later?" With a friendly nod at Draco and a smile for Hermione he disappeared down the hallway, leaving the two head students to stare at each other in silence.

Not knowing what the moment called for, Hermione went for casual. "You'll be off to Quidditch practice then, right?" It hadn't taken many weeks of living together before they had each memorized the other's schedule.

"Yeah, I better be heading off actually," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "You want to come?" He hesitated only briefly before making the offer, and Hermione felt butterflies erupt in her stomach. Whether or not he was just being friendly she still felt thrilled at the idea that he had invited her to come watch him play. It felt rather intimate given their recent, unspoken, activities.

"I can't," she replied not bothering to hide the regret in her voice. "I have a meeting with McGonagall in half an hour and I really should get something to eat." He nodded at her in understanding. "But will you be back late? We should really plan for the Prefects meeting tomorrow…"

"Probably 8:30, 9:00 or so. Does that work?" She agreed and was about to turn and walk away when he suddenly reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around the end of one of her unruly curls. She caught her breath, unsure how to react and not knowing what his intentions were. His gaze dropped, raking across her body and up the slim contour of her neck before resting on her face and eventually meeting her eyes.

"Miss me," he whispered huskily, and with a small tug on her curl he released her and walked away.

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Feeling flustered by Draco's parting words, Hermione found it difficult to concentrate during her presentation to the Gryffindor head of house. Professor McGonagall had been open minded but clearly had some concerns about the timing of the whole project, fairly pointing out that they were nearly half-way through the school term and it might very well be too late to coordinate something of this nature with the other Wizarding schools. In response Hermione presented her detailed timeline, and though she acknowledged that it was tight she still felt convinced that they could pull it off. In the end McGonagall agreed to assign her two staff members to supervise the project and Hermione left with a list of next steps and a promise that Dumbledore would reach out to the other heads of the European schools.

It was almost 7:45 when she made it back to the head dorms and though she wanted to continue working on her ISE project she unfortunately had a few last problem-sets to complete before her Arithmancy class tomorrow. She spent a few minutes distracting herself with Crookshanks before settling in at her desk in the common room. Other than the library, this had to be her favorite place to study. The big picture window was spread in front of her, currently revealing the dark and snowy grounds which left her feeling warm and snug being tucked away inside. She checked the clock briefly, thinking about how cold Draco and his teammates must be flying around on the pitch.

By the time 8:30 rolled around she had finished with her problem sets and had half-heartedly switched to a Herbology assignment. Her diagrams of the plants looked nearly perfect but she continued to fiddle with them, too distracted with watching the clock to bother making any real progress on the assignment. It wasn't until nearly 8:50 that the portrait door finally swung open and she had to catch herself from looking too excited.

"I take it you managed not to freeze?" she teased, leaving her desk to join him near entrance to the room. Draco's cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, and his freshly showered hair was coated in a layer of fat snowflakes.

"Barely," he admitted, smiling back at her as he deposited his gear carelessly on the floor. "I think the team was about to rebel."

"Poor things," she patronized, handing over the cup of tea she'd prepared for him. "This might help."

"Thanks," his lips quirked up into a grin as he happily accepted the cup, taking a long sip. "But you know what would really help warm me up?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not putting Firewhiskey in your tea, Draco."

"Tempting," he murmured, taking another sip before setting the cup aside. "But I had something else in mind."

He closed the distance between them in a flash and Hermione thrilled at feeling his strong hands settle against the curves of her waist. She tilted her head back so she could see his face, and for the second time that evening held her breath in anticipation. "Warm me up, Granger?"

His eyes were dark with desire and she failed to repress an involuntary gasp at the seductive look on his face. Deciding to be brave, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, having to stretch onto her toes just to close the distance. Her hands brushed against his soft hair and she ran a tentative finger up the base of his skull, delighting in the shiver she felt coursing through his body. Apparently that was all the incentive he needed and soon their lips were moving together in what was rapidly becoming a familiar dance.

His mouth was hot from the tea and he nipped at her bottom lip before roughly soothing it with his tongue. She made a mewling noise at his aggressive exploration, her hands threading more firmly in his hair and shamelessly pulling his mouth firmly against her own. His hands tightened around her waist before he trailed a single palm up the length of her back, pressing her forcefully against his chest.

Staying balanced on her toes proved too difficult and with a groan she sank back down to her feet, dragging her hands sensuously down his chest as she returned firmly to the floor. She felt the zipper of his jacket against her thumb, and for one wild moment considered what would happen were she to take it off.

Draco, not nearly ready to end the snog, lifted her effortlessly before depositing her on the nearest couch, her head coming to rest dizzily against the arm. She was still in her uniform and made a self-conscious attempt to smooth out her skirt from where it had ridden up but Draco simply grabbed her wrists, pinning them along either side of her head before he resumed hungrily claiming her mouth.

Hermione had never before experienced kissing like this. In the back of her mind she was aware that he was lying practically on top of her but couldn't quite bring herself to care or to stop.

"Aaaahhhhh," she cried out, though not in passion. One of Draco's hands had slipped under the collar of her blouse, his cold fingers causing an unpleasant shock.

"Hush," he scolded her breathlessly, sparing her a passionate grin. She might have protested had he not then began trailing his lips down the column of her neck, leaving biting, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. She couldn't help but moan when he reached a particularly sensitive place against her collar bone and he smirked against her skin.

"Shouldn't we, ahh, shouldn't we be working on our, the ahh, the meeting agenda?" She was breathing heavily and didn't want to stop, but truthfully she was a bit nervous about what might happen if they didn't. He sucked on her pulse point and she realized she didn't much trust herself to be rational right now—based on the look in his eyes she trusted him even less.

He groaned, dropping his head down to rest against her shoulder while his arms kept him propped above her. Hermione felt a pang of regret, but it was getting late and she reminded herself that there was no reason to get carried away. They weren't even dating after all and based on how fast things were escalating she knew she was bound to get hurt if she didn't have the willpower to stay in control.

"Sorry," she murmured. Feeling bad, she raised a hand and ran it through his hair, smiling at his rumbled purr in response. He eventually raised his head and, pretending to scowl, pressed a soft, lingering kiss against her now swollen lips.

"Come on, Granger. Show me what you have so far."


	20. Chapter 20

_Hello hello! First of all, a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed my latest chapter, and really to everyone who has ever reviewed. I went through all of my reviews last week in an attempt to become more organized, which not only was great for reminiscing purposes but also made me realize that some of you have been above and beyond fantastic reviewers._

 _With that - let me give a special thanks to pgoodrighboggs, Irmorena, DiagonAlleyorBust, Chester99, and Sunset Whispers for leaving reviews on nearly every chapter! You guys are amazing and you rock, as do all reviewers, so don't be shy out there ;)_

 _We'll get to see a bit more of Draco's POV in this chapter, sorry that I've been terrible at adding him in. I don't anticipate ever striking a balance between the two in this story, but I do want to occasionally share things from his perspective._

 _I tried to make the timeline clear in the story but in case there is any confusion, this chapter is taking place a week after our last chapter left off._

 _So, with that, enjoy!_

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"Watch it!" Draco barked, his quick reflexes saving him just in time as he slid to the side of the oncoming pumpkin juice. The terrified second year responsible for the spill stammered out a fearful apology, scampering away towards the end of the long table and taking a new seat far away from the wrath of the Slytherin Prince.

"Someone's a little testy this morning," Nott observed, using his wand to casually syphon away the spilled juice while he munched on a piece of toast with the other hand. "Late night?"

Draco simply glared at his friend, thoroughly unamused by the disingenuous question.

It had somehow seemed like a good idea, at the time, to spend his Thursday night drinking in the Slytherin common room with a group of upper classmen — Nott included. With Hermione filling in on rounds and Blaise rehearsing for that silly play, it really had felt like the best option available. Better than drinking alone at any rate, which had been his original plan before receiving Pansy's note after dinner. The catch, of course, was having to put up with other people. Instead of an evening of silent brooding and contemplation he was forced to listen to the latest Slytherin gossip and fend off advances from more than one female. In the end he had retreated to a corner with Pansy where the two sat in relative silence, playing the world's most uninspired drinking game of who could go the longest.

And now he had a throbbing headache and a homework assignment due in two hours that he was only halfway through completing. He poured himself a strong cup of tea and served a heaping pile of scrambled eggs onto his plate, determined to fight through his foul mood lest a crack break through his infamous, controlled facade. Blaise had apparently already eaten and left so Draco was lucky that a letter from his mother came with the morning post, giving him a perfect shield to be anti-social. The creamy envelope was beautiful, expensive, and smelled slightly of camellias. He had been taken back at the rush of warmth that filled his chest upon picking up the letter, the innocuous reminder of home hitting him hard.

Not that he really had a "home" anymore, not after the Ministry had seized what remained of his war-weary childhood manor. Truth be told, he wasn't all that sorry to see it go. Some of the darkest moments of his life took place there, and even the good memories from his childhood had a shadow cast over them now that he was beginning to understand the privilege and prejudice that had defined his upbringing.

His mother was currently in France at one of the Malfoys' summer villas, and Draco enjoyed picturing her there tucked away along the coast.

He supposed his mother was his "home" now, and he felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn't written to her nearly as often as she deserved. There had been no medals bestowed on Narcissa Malfoy, but after a lengthy trial the Wizengamont had offered her the conditional pardon of a hefty fine and Auror-oversight for three years. It seemed they believed that she had been an unwilling victim of the war, but ultimately the Ministry was unwilling to let her off entirely with no consequences.

Draco scanned the letter in his hand for the third time, feeling remorse beginning to slither in against the warmth. The letter was filled with descriptions of her redecoration project, her new friends on the board of the French Women's Society for Art and Charitable Giving, and the family's new house elf (the Ministry had seized all the ones who worked at the manor). She mentioned how glad she was that his grades were good and he was having an uneventful year at school, that she was looking forward to seeing him in a month for the winter holidays.

A flash of movement from the Hufflepuff table caused him to look up and his eyes immediately found the bushy hair of his roommate, serenely eating breakfast next to Longbottom. His guilt only grew.

He had been less than forthcoming with his mother—his occasional letters home touching on his Quidditch and Swim victories, his classes, an occasional mention of his Head Boy duties and Blaise. He had offered not a single clue to what was actually going on; to be fair, it wasn't as though he truly had a clue himself.

Draco let out a small growl, stabbing at his eggs with unnecessary force. Had things really gotten to the point where he was lying to himself? _Apparently they have_ , he admitted ruefully, sneaking another glance at the back of Hermione's head.

What had started as tolerance had grown to a bemused friendship before barreling straight into a crush. Despite his internal warnings and the crazy drama of her idiot former-friends, he had found himself slipping more and more—little touches, flirtatious glances, suggestive remarks here and there. And that was BEFORE he learned what was actually going on. Horror and anger had been his primary emotions, though those were easy enough to push down with sufficient Firewhiskey. The rush of protectiveness had proven much harder to suppress. It had been a week since the first time he accompanied her to her treatment session with Madam Pomfrey, and thinking back on the experience still made his chest feel tight.

She had been so unexpected, the last thing he had anticipated boarding the train that year was developing feelings for the Gryffindor Princess.

And, really, he deserved some credit all things considered. He was trying his best to support her, taking her lead on whether she needed a distraction or moral support and never forcing her to deal with his own volatile emotions. Of course, then there were the things that he _wasn't_ doing. Case in point, he wasn't trying hard enough to keep himself away from her. Wasn't the situation complicated enough without adding even heavier feelings into the mix? At first he'd tried to convince himself that it could just be casual, a fun way for them to both let off some steam and process the ongoing damage of the war. That plan had flown right out the window at the first touch of her lips.

The way she trembled in his arms was so feminine and much too appealing for his own good. After that first kiss on the mountain he hadn't been able to stay away, seeking her out like a moth to a flame.

A secret smirk stole across his face as he thought back to the day before when he had pulled her into an alcove near the courtyard, hoping to sneak a quick snog in between classes. She had looked completely flustered, her eyes so wide in apparent disbelief that he momentarily wondered how they managed to stay in her head. He had pulled her close, teasingly brushing his lips against her jaw, but in the end she fled, pushing past him to make a hasty exit and nearly bowling over a group of first years in her hurry, causing a minor-scene. His laughter had stayed with him all the way to Transfiguration, though he would have bet that her blush remained far longer.

It wasn't sustainable, he knew that much. He may only be 17 and a red-blooded male, but even he knew that it was a recipe for disaster to make out with a terminally ill friend without talking through boundaries or expectations. Hell, even then he wasn't sure there was any scenario under which a romantic relationship would end in anything but abject heartbreak. It made his head throb even harder to imagine what might happen a few months from now, and Draco clenched his jaw as he pushed the thoughts away. That kind of thinking wouldn't get him anywhere.

"Coming, Drake?" He nodded at Pansy, pushing his letter gently into his bag and throwing back the last of his tea.

They met up with Blaise halfway to the greenhouses and both boys listened patiently as Pansy regaled them with details from the latest letter she had received from her fiancé, a match her parents had arranged that summer with a powerful German family; Pureblood, of course. Draco nodded along, glad when they reached Greenhouse 6 and he was able to move away to begin setting up his station.

"Did you talk to her about Sunday, yet?" Blaise asked quietly, setting up his things at the next bench over. Draco chuckled, he had forgotten about the plan the two had come up with, he honestly couldn't wait to see Hermione's face.

"Not yet, but it's probably best that she doesn't have much warning."

"You better take pictures, D," Blaise smirked, turning away attentively to face Professor Sprout as she entered the Greenhouses and kicked off her weekly N.E.W.T.-level practicum.

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Hermione had no idea how her life had gotten to this point, but she had a fleeting pang of regret for every moment that had brought her to this place.

Okay, perhaps she was being a bit over-dramatic, but she had to do something to counter-balance Neville's unbelievable enthusiasm.

"You coming?" He was practically bouncing in excitement when she emerged from the women's changing room and she let out an unintelligible huff in reply, wondering if there were any way to escape.

"This is so neat, don't you think?" he continued to chatter as they made their way down to the shore of the lake, their boots crunching in the snow. "It was really nice of Malfoy to invite us. He's usually a right git but he seems a lot different this year, don't you think?"

Hermione scoffed. If you had asked her an hour ago she would have whole heartedly agreed, even gone so far as to defend his past actions as a by product of his horrible upbringing. Now, however, she was cursing herself for falling so easily into his trap.

December was only a week away and the lake, while not frozen solid, had a ring of icy crust built up along the shore where the chilly, grey water lapped menacingly against the rocks. There hadn't been any snow since the big storm a week or so back, but the cold temperatures ensured that the ground remained white and hard. The sun was at least out, that was something, she tried to reassure herself.

"Hey, Hermione," Derrick greeted her once they reached the edge of the water. She smiled back at him, noting with a bit of displeasure that Astoria was also in attendance standing next to a small group of younger Slytherins, a few of them looking just as nervous as she felt.

"Morning, Derrick, Astoria," she replied, nodding her head at the tall brunette. "Do both of you know Neville?" Interactions between the Gryffindors and Slytherins, while improving, were still far from easy so she felt a bit apprehensive introducing him to the two sixth years. Fortunately she needn't have worried, as Neville stepped right up and shook their hands, a big grin still plastered across his face. His confidence really suited him, she realized.

"We're just waiting for Draco, he's grabbing some equipment from the shed," Derrick continued, gesturing back toward the locker rooms. "He mentioned you were joining us to do some research?"

Before Hermione could clarify that she was not, in fact, here of her own free will, Draco appeared carrying several large bags and with a second group of underclassmen.

"The Gryffindors here are planning a big sports tournament for the end of the year," he tossed out as he set down his load, clearly having overheard Derrick on his way over. "I figured they should have the opportunity to learn all the specifics so that they don't muck things up too badly."

He snuck her a quick, innocent glance and Hermione made sure to roll her eyes at him—no part of her believed that he was doing this to help with her ISE project.

"A sports tournament?" Astoria walked over to help Draco begin checking through the bags. "Like, between all the houses?"

"Between all the European schools, actually," Hermione clarified. "At least, that's the plan! Neville here is leading efforts to put everything together." She looked over at him and smiled to see him straighten and puff out his chest a bit. She had been so grateful last week when she had gotten him to agree to take over the project and he really seemed to be taking to his new role. Both Slytherins seemed genuinely interested in the project and began asking questions, so she used the opportunity to sneak over and get some answers herself.

"Is this some kind of punishment?" she half-whispered, half-hissed at him, turning her back on the group of students still huddled nearby.

Draco straightened up, still feigning innocence. "And what, precisely, is it that I'd be punishing you for?"

"I'm not stupid," she declared, her face contorting into a full blown glare. "This is you and Blaise trying to force me to add things to that blasted list. You're going to torture me until I finally give in!"

"Come on Granger, you really think we'd do that?" The sly look on his face was all the answer she needed. She let out a growl of frustration and crossed her arms across her chest, just barely holding back a litany of threats. "Play nice, now," he urged, "it would be a shame if you scared off the kids." And with that he moved around her to address the waiting group of students and kick off the morning's activities.

Hermione spent the next 40 minutes attempting to be a good sport, which meant practicing the spells Draco taught them and trying not to freeze. To be fair, many of the ones they were being shown were various forms of warming spells, so she was rather as likely to overheat as she was to freeze. She and Neville were sitting in on the Slytherin's bi-annual Introductory Swim event, a chance for the younger students to come and learn about the sport, test it out, and have a chance to practice for anyone who might be interested in trying out for the team. She knew that all of the house teams offered something like this, Harry and Ron had hosted ones for Quidditch a few times that she could remember. Of course being neither a Slytherin, a younger student, nor interested in swimming, she was left feeling utterly self-concious and out of place.

Blaise had found her at breakfast that morning, saying something about Draco needing her help by the lake. By the time she had shown up and put two and two together it was already too late, Blaise had locked her in the changing rooms and disappeared. She had been slightly mollified to see Neville there as well, though clearly his invitation for the Sunday-morning activities had been significantly more above-board.

Now she was standing amongst a bunch of 11-14 year olds in a skintight suit, forced to abandon her coat, gloves, and hat, as a matter of principal, or so Draco had informed her. It was actually kind of amusing, bordering on endearing, watching him with the younger students. He clearly thrived being in charge, and while he wasn't as outwardly patient or nurturing as Harry had been with the DA, he was obviously a strong teacher. His was more of a tough-love style of instruction, similar to military drill-sergeants, but he was very effective and the younger students obviously looked up to him. She found herself momentarily lost in how attractive he was to her in that moment, striking an impressive balance of commanding and caring. Too bad the effect was lost the second her concentration slipped and the cold came rushing back in.

All too soon they were being led to the water and Hermione felt her dread mounting once again.

"I think I've gotten the general idea," she declared firmly, backing steadily away from the lake. "You'll be fine without me, right Neville?"

"Nah ah ah," Draco tsked, appearing behind her suddenly and causing her neoprene-clad body to collide with his. She had a brief second to enjoy the feel of his hard muscles against her back before being forcefully marched to the large, floating dock where the rest of the group was waiting. She clambered on next to Neville, trying unsuccessfully to huddle near him for warmth.

"Here's the deal," Draco stated, getting everyone's attention. "Everyone was looking really strong back there, but the water's very cold and we need to make sure nobody gets into trouble. Derrick and Astoria are going to come around and put a quick spell on you that will allow us to detect if your body temperature drops too far, and if that happens we'll pull you out, get ya warmed up, then throw you back in," he winked. There were a few nervous chuckles at that last part, and Hermione felt a bit better to see that she wasn't the only person who seemed to be having second thoughts on the wisdom of having stepped onto the dock.

She didn't feel anything when Derrick tapped her with his wand a few minutes later, she could only hope that the charm had worked. Then again, it wasn't like she was actually going to get in the water, so perhaps it was a moot point.

"Alright then," Draco continued, clapping his hands together and looking far too chipper. "Who's first?" The raft had slowly moved them further out into the water, small waves now gently lapping against the wooden planks. Hermione inched closer to the center, head down and silently promising that she would kill him if he so much as thought about calling on her to volunteer.

"I'll go," she was surprised to see Neville step up and walk to the front of the group. He looked pale but determined, his wand gripped tightly in his fist. Draco looked a bit surprised as well but recovered quickly, offering up some last minute instructions.

"Alright, you might be a bit shocked when you hit the water depending on how good your warming charms are. Just concentrate on holding on to your wand, and try not to panic if it's cold."

"Maybe close your eyes," suggested Astoria, stepping forward to check over his suit for a final time.

Hermione couldn't believe that he was about to voluntarily go into the freezing water, but before she knew it he gave a rallying shout and hopped off the edge, causing a splash of cold water to hit the nearest students and prompting a few shrieks. His head popped up a few seconds later, beaming at his victory. Things moved in a blur after that. The younger students seemed encouraged by Neville's successful first try, and slowly but surely they all began leaping in. Some went alone, others in pairs, and a few even had to be pushed in, to varying degrees of success. There were a few screams and several people had to be pulled out after a few seconds but all in all it looked like it was going about as well as one could expect from a group of novices.

Neville pulled himself back onto the raft after a while and came to stand next to a still-dry Hermione, where she hovered anxiously near the edge of the structure.

"Aren't you going to jump in?" he asked, coming to sit beside her and warm up under the magically magnified heat-canopy that Derrick and Astoria had assembled earlier. A small first year was huddled nearby wrapped in some towels, a bluish color still clinging to his lips.

"Potentially," Hermione answered him, not taking her eyes off the dark water lapping a few inches from her bare toes. It had been a mistake not jumping in right away, she now realized. The longer she stalled the more inertia built up, leaving her suspended in place as she tried unsuccessfully to build her courage.

"It's really not bad at all!" he encouraged, brushing some wet hair away from his eyes. "You're brilliant at spells, Hermione, I'm sure you'll have no problem." She winced at hearing his faith in her—did no one remember what happened any time she tried to ride a broom? Magical sports were clearly her downfall. She glance over her shoulder, seeing that Draco was still occupied with the other students. A silly, girlish part of her wished that he would come over and reassure her, maybe even that he would hold her hand. The other part, naturally, was still cursing him for forcing her into this situation in the first place.

In the end she took a deep breath, clenched her eyes shut, and determinedly stepped over the edge.

It was over in a matter of seconds. Her timing hadn't been perfect, resulting in a sharp stab of pain as her feet pierced the water, but this was fortunately brief and her warming charm took hold almost instantaneously. She had sunk down further than expected, a not entirely enjoyable sensation, but soon her head was emerging and she floated there treading water. The adrenaline made her feel shaky and light-headed, forcing her to check her grip on her wand more than once.

Neville was smiling at her from the raft. "You good?" he called out. She nodded shakily in return, still shocked that she had actually gone and jumped in the lake. In November. It had been years since she'd been swimming and the sensation of bobbing in place was both calming and surreal. She took a few minutes to explore, figuring that she might as well move around now that she was in. Draco had taught them a few mobility spells but she didn't want to risk her concentration slipping on her warming charm, it would be nearly impossible to live down the embarrassment of having to get pulled out of the water. Instead she hesitantly kicked her feet, moving in an awkward and lopsided circle as she tried to steer clear of the other learners. When she decided that she'd fulfilled her obligations she paddled quickly over to the side of the raft and set her wand securely on the edge before pulling herself up and out of the water, only to come face to face with Draco.

"I'm surprised," he stated, giving her hand a tight squeeze as he helped pull her out. "I bet Blaise five galleons that I'd be forced to push you in."

"And I bet you a _million_ galleons that you value your family jewels too much to ever go through with that," she shot back, gratefully accepting the towel he was holding out. Her thick hair was like a sponge and cold water was steadily dripping down her back, making her cringe in spite of the relative warmth courtesy of the heat canopy. He moved off with a laugh and she went to sit near the middle of the raft, feeling both relieved that it was over and proud that she had actually jumped in. In fact, this was the lightest she had felt in some time. She watched Derrick, Astoria, and Draco steadily rounding up the students, giving them towels and chocolate as they offered feedback on technique and areas for improvement. Neville, apparently, wasn't a half-bad swimmer. It was too bad he had been so picked-on growing up, perhaps he could have made the Gryffindor team and been less of a target. The raft slowly drifted back to shore and when it bumped gently against the beach she stood up and went to join the rest of the group as they made their way back to land and presumably a hot shower and dry clothes. She had survived, and, she told herself, that deserved a hot chocolate!

Though she was eager to head back she found herself lingering instead, not so subtly waiting to see what Draco might do. Neville had already disappeared but Draco was conferring with his teammates at the far side of the raft when, to her surprise, he turned and leaped gracefully back into the water, disappearing into the dark water with hardly a splash. She watched for a moment to see where he would resurface, but when it became clear that he wouldn't be popping up any time soon she eventually turned back to face the remaining Slytherins.

"You coming back to the changing rooms?" Astoria asked simply, a calculating look in her eyes despite her rather expressionless, not to mention flawless, face.

"Ummm, I thought I might just wait for Draco," she mumbled, feeling notably uncomfortable in front of the two sixth years. Friends could wait for other friends without it meaning anything, couldn't they? Astoria's lips pressed into a thin line, but Derrick simply gave a nod and hopped off. Hermione looked down to avoid the other girl's shrewd stare, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally felt Astoria step off to follow her housemate away from the water.

She looked back at the lake, still seeing no sign of blonde hair amongst the steely grey waves. Not knowing exactly what to do with herself she settled for sitting along the edge of the dock, using the now well-practiced warming charm to keep her legs from freezing. The canopy was still putting out a magical bubble of warmth and she felt surprisingly relaxed as she sat there, absently swinging her legs and looking out towards the far side of the lake and the edge of the forest beyond. It was rather peaceful out here, she conceded mentally, and perhaps the water wasn't so bad once you got used to it…

"Aaaaaahhhhhhh!" she screamed out, shocked by Draco's sudden appearance right in front of her and the burst of cold water that accompanied said surprise. He had popped out of the water right by her feet, his hands coming to rest on either side of her hips and his face suddenly inches from her own. She instinctually tried to scramble away but, with her legs trapped against his stomach, she ended up flopping back unceremoniously instead.

"Hey, Granger," he smirked down at her, looking thoroughly pleased at taking her by surprise.

Feeling indignant and startled, Hermione quickly sat back up and tried to shove him back into the lake, the only result being that she was once again face to face with him, this time with her hands pressed firmly against his chest.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I have a fantasy that starts off like this," he whispered to her huskily, leaning forward to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. She blushed while simultaneously shivering at the cool sensation of his lips on her warm skin. After a brief struggle she managed to pull her legs out of the water and bring them to her chest, tucking up shyly into a ball. Despite the recent evolution of their relationship, she still hadn't gotten used to his blatant flirting and forward comments.

With a graceful push he pulled his body the rest of the way out of the water, positioning himself so they were sitting side by side. "So, what's the verdict on swimming in a nearly frozen lake?" he asked, running a hand through his hair to smooth it back and away from his face, the water made it a much darker blonde than she was used to. She turned her head towards him from where it rested on her knees, carefully considering her words.

"It was…better than expected."

He looked at her steadily, seemingly contemplating an appropriate response. Though a few minutes passed without any words between them, Hermione felt that the silence was calming, closing her eyes and allowing herself to enjoy the gentle rocking of the raft and the magical heat at her back.

"It wasn't to torture you," she opened her eyes again as he finally spoke, not sure she believed his words.

"So you tricked me into this situation because cold water is good for my health?" she asked drily, skeptically raising a single eyebrow.

He smiled. "I just meant that we weren't trying to blackmail you. Not directly, at least." He seemed to straighten a bit, his voice turning serious. "We know you aren't keen on Blaise's idea, and we thought this would be a good opportunity to show you what it feels like to try something new. Get you away from the library."

"I like the library," she murmured softly, hiding her face back against her knees so that he couldn't see her expression. She had a sudden flashback to her first year at Hogwarts, feeling shy and defensive and utterly out of place. Hermione, the boring, bushy-haired bookworm. She stiffened when she felt his arm wrap around her back, but she didn't actually pull away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he apologized, seeming to sense the direction her thoughts had wandered in. "I just figured it was something that you'd never do on your own. Plus, I wanted to see what you'd look like in one of these suits," he teased. His voice dropped and his hand brushed down her side to rest against the swell of her hip.

Hermione felt a rush of pleasure course through her, allowing his words to sink in and fill her with a different kind of warmth than the canopy was providing above. She grabbed his hand and moved it back to her waist, they were out in the open after all, but she shifted closer along the wet, wooden planks, deciding that would be a fair compromise. Draco drummed his fingers absently along her side and they sat there quietly, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Draco?" Perhaps it was leftover courage from her jump in the lake, but Hermione suddenly felt the need to get things out in the open. "What's happening, exactly? Between us."

She felt the sigh travel through his entire body, not of exasperation but of acceptance. He removed his arm from around her side and ran a hand through his wet hair, leaning forward so that his elbows came to rest on his legs where they still dangled in the water.

"Will you understand if I say that it's complicated?" he asked finally, his gaze trained on the water.

"Trust me, I'm very aware of how complicated this is," she replied, trying but failing to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

His lips turned up in a humorless smile and he turned to look at her. "I care about you Hermione. I care about you a lot."

Her breath caught in her throat. They were words that she wanted to hear, but they were said with such vulnerability and sorrow that it made her heart ache.

"I care about you, too." While she couldn't offer him much, she could at least offer him that. Her words came out softly.

"Is that enough? For now?" He seemed anxious to see how she would respond, and took several moments to carefully consider what he was asking.

She decided that, surprisingly, it was. It was enough for now and it was certainly enough talking for being outside, in winter, on a raft, barely dressed. She almost regretted brining it up in the first place, but ultimately was glad to know that he was equally struggling to deal with the implications of their newfound feelings. She didn't bother answering him directly, instead shifting until she was sitting up on her knees with her back towards the lake. She took a deep breath, attempting to call up the last dregs of her bravery and hoping she looked more confident than she felt. He didn't fight her this time as she pressed firmly against the center of his chest, allowing his body to fall back slowly until he was laying out fully along the raft. She followed him, twisting her body so that she was leaning over his prone form, one hand resting lightly against the curve shoulder. His eyes were slightly wide, but heated, and he brought a hand up to brush across her pale cheek.

"Did your fantasy involve something like this?" she asked him huskily, leaning down until her lips were just centimeters away from his own. She could see his pulse beating quickly in his neck and felt his heart keeping pace under her hand.

"This is a good start," he whispered back, his voice hoarse. Just as he leaned up to close the remaining distance between their mouths, a distinct _click_ could be heard from somewhere back on shore.

Hermione sat up, startled, and blinked at the bright flash that came from over near the changing rooms. Her mouth dropping open in horror, she saw two Ravenclaw students not 50 meters away, a camera clutched in one of their hands and a stupefied look on both of their faces.


	21. Chapter 21

_Happy Friday everyone! I know there has been a bit of a delay in getting this chapter up, so hopefully this is a nice weekend treat! As a bit of a life update, I'm about halfway through a cross-country trek right now as part of a big life transition. I will be starting graduate school in a few weeks, and while this is a very exciting new adventure it has been hard to set aside as much time to write as I would like. I really really really want to be consistent with updating this story, but I hope you all will understand if over the next couple of months there aren't as many new chapters as you all deserve._

 _So many readers reviewed my last chapter, I'm so excited to set a new record! Hearing from you guys definitely keeps me motivated, and I've even been known to answer a few questions here and there if it doesn't spoil the story ;) Thank you to: 666Spektor, Acupples, AlyssaWonderland, arururur, beaflower114, Blu3zClu3z, bulldoglover01, cmtaylor531, coffee-addicted, dashwhoiam, Elsa007, I love new stories, ImAOLicitySuperFan, Irmorena, KangBoRam, kimbclar, lovetodance1992, pgoodrichboggs, roon0, sasukessweetheart, shiva-hime, Sunset Whispers, xzoexangelx and 4 Guests!_

 _Now, I can't really decide if a lot happens in this chapter or if nothing happens. I'll let you be the judges, let me know what you think!_

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Hermione couldn't remember dreading a Monday morning even half as much as she found herself dreading this particular one.

The portrait-hole remained frozen in place, half-open from where Draco had left it five minutes before and offering a small glimpse at the fourth floor hallway beyond. Had anyone happened to walk by, they would have caught sight of Hermione standing rooted in place and staring at the door with all her might; whether she was willing it to swing open or slam shut was not immediately apparent, even to the girl in question. She looked like the quintessential Head Girl that morning—uniform clean and firmly pressed, hair tamed and in a loose plait, shoes polished and bag neatly organized. Unfortunately, her half-panicked eyes and colorless cheeks ruined the effect entirely.

Draco had left for breakfast looking equally as polished, though to be fair that was a rather common occurrence where the Head Boy was concerned. He had tried unsuccessfully to coax her into walking down with him, making a 'strength in numbers' argument, but she wouldn't be budged.

They had both been so startled the day before no the lake when they heard the camera go off, but while Draco's natural reaction had been anger, Hermione's response proved much more effective. Years of harassment at the hands of the Wizarding media had taught her a trick or two, and within seconds of spotting the two Ravenclaws she had picked up her wand and cast a film-erasing charm. Such a spell was generally useless against the paparazzi, they tended to come prepared with counter-charmed equipment, but luckily the students had no such protections in place. She had suffered a brief moment of regret knowing that it was possible that her spell had destroyed their camera; in all likelihood they had not brought the device out with the intention to spy… In the end, she knew she hadn't really had a choice. Even disregarding how the student body would have reacted, she knew that the Hogwarts staff would look less-than kindly on finding a photo of the Head students laying practically on top of one another in the middle of the day on school grounds.

Hermione ducked her head in shame at just the thought of her professors seeing something like that. What had gotten into her that she had been so brazen and careless in broad daylight? The situation was bad enough even without the photographic proof. Though they had strategically made a quick escape to their dorm after being caught, Blaise had shown up not an hour later with news that the rumor had exploded over the entire school. Feeling fed up with the drama that had become the defining feature of her seventh year, Hermione had retreated to her room, deciding that if she held onto Crookshanks and wrapped herself in enough blankets the outside world might, in fact, cease to exist entirely.

That, unfortunately, proved to be wishful thinking, and there she was still standing there staring at the common room door ten minutes after Draco had left. Knowing she had to act now before she lost her nerve entirely, she scooped up her bag and made a beeline for the hall, walking quickly and with her head down. She knew that Draco and Blaise would have told her to walk slowly, head up and with perfect posture, not allow her classmates to see that she was at all affected. Though her hypothetical versions of them may have had a point, she felt too miserable with anticipation to bother with the pretense.

The dining hall was loud and bustling, very typical for a Monday morning, and Hermione looked around quickly for any sign of Neville or Luna. The students caught sight of her almost immediately, their whispers, gestures, and pointed stares was possibly the least subtle thing she had witnessed to date. With increasing desperation, she noted that the only remaining space at the Gryffindor table was directly next to a group of seventh and sixth years, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Lavender amongst them, no Neville in sight. Knowing that she might as well accept her fate and get it over with, she made her way steadily to the empty seat and sat down with as much confidence as she could muster.

If there was an upside, it was that at least her back was facing away from the rest of the student body. She quickly poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice before grabbing a small scoop of eggs and a piece of toast, silently counting down the minutes in her head until she could leave for class. She made it a good five minutes before her classmates decided to engage.

"Are you insane, Hermione?" Parvati was the first to crack. "Carrying on with a Slytherin, and Malfoy no less." To Hermione's surprise she sounded more intrigued than outright disapproving, as though she was still trying to wrap her head around the shock of the news.

"Perhaps she's just trying to get attention," Lavender tossed in cruelly. "Won't last though. I'll bet anyone five galleons that he dumps her before the end of the week, won't take him long to figure out what a fantastic prude she is."

The derisive sneer on the blonde girl's face was enough to make Hermione's blood boil. She had half a mind to share with the entire table just how un-prudish Lavender herself's behavior had been that summer, but she drowned the impulse with a gulp of pumpkin juice instead. She didn't want to be the kind of person who sank to the level of her tormenters.

"I don't know," Louisa, a sixth year, piped up. "Snogging out in the open like that, sounds like a slag move to me. And here I was thinking Hufflepuff had the biggest sluts!" This earned a round of chuckles from her classmates, causing Hermione's cheeks to burn red in anger.

"No way, she's totally frigid," Lavender insisted. "Isn't that right, Ron?"

Hermione looked up from her plate just enough to meet Ron's eyes, having no doubt as to what his opinion would be. He seemed to hesitate for just a moment, glancing quickly over at Harry who seemed, oddly, to be paying no attention whatsoever, before turning back.

"She's a total lost cause," he agreed, not quite meeting her eyes this time. "Malfoy's the unluckiest bastard in this school by far."

Deciding that she had had enough of their taunts Hermione grabbed her bag and made to stand up, only to bump into the boy in question. Draco had apparently just walked over from the Slytherin table and, looking completely unaffected, held out a hand in an silent offer to take her bag. She smiled in gratitude at the rescue, but before she could open her mouth to say anything she felt a hand come down around her waist and in surprise found herself turning into the arms of one Blaise Zabini.

She held herself stiffly, unsure what his game might be but feeling very much on display in the dining hall full of students and staff. He was looking at her with the most seductive expression she had ever seen on any person's face, and with a sinking feeling she realized what he was about to do.

"Thanks for last night, Princess," he whispered provocatively, loud enough to be heard by both surrounding tables. "Best night of my life." Before she could blink he had swooped down and captured her lips with his own, pulling her into a highly inappropriate kiss and drowning out her squeak of surprise.

She was too shocked to react, and when he pulled away a few seconds later with a wink and grin still in place, all she could do was blink stupidly at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. The hall was now completely silent, and Hermione wondered if perhaps she'd had a stroke. She even hoped for a minute that she had. She finally managed to turn back to look at Draco, wondering what his response would be to his friend's antics, but instead of being upset he simply rolled his eyes and placed a loose arm around her shoulder.

"We should get to class," he stated simply, and, still in disbelief, she allowed herself to be led out of the still speechless dining hall, Blaise following smoothly behind.

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Hermione didn't speak to Blaise for three days. What had started as simple, if juicy, gossip had morphed into outrageous speculation, each rumor more lurid than the last. Apparently, Colin Creevy had been present in the hospital wing on the day that Hermione first let the boys accompany her to a treatment session and he he had overheard the sound of her and Blaise's voices. It seemed that enough students knew of the risqué history of those side rooms and soon the entire school was whispering about the presumed love child she was carrying.

"They were calling you a prude, I was just defending your honor!" he had tried to reason with her.

"So it's better that they think I'm so loose that I'm sleeping with the both of you?!" Needless to say, Blaise would not be winning that argument with her anytime soon.

Draco, shrewd man that he was, kept well out of their argument. This, too, annoyed Hermione, though she was insightful enough to admit that some of her irritation came from the fact that he was coming under much less fire than she was. Unlike the Gryffindors, the Slytherins seemed much less inclined to turn on their own and much more dismissive of the gossip. They seemed mostly unbothered by the supposed-scandal, which, in combination with Draco's general emotionless demeanor, meant that he was largely left alone.

She managed to forgive him a bit when, on Tuesday morning, he had surprised her in their common room by showing her a new spell he had researched the night before. It was essentially the opposite of the _Muffliato_ charm and managed to reduce all conversations outside of her immediate vicinity to indistinct chatter. It gave her enough of a buffer to successfully tune out the rumors and keep her sanity. Of course this also meant that it was now very difficult to get her attention, which was how she ended up unreasonably startled when Luna and Neville tried to get her attention in the library that Thursday afternoon.

"Sorry Hermione, didn't mean to scare you!" Neville apologized, settling down across from her with a sheepish grin.

"No, my fault," she croaked out, struggling to emerge from her hyper-focused study mindset. "I was using a spell to block out extraneous noise because, well, you know…" she trailed off lamely.

"Because the entire student body is talking about your sordid affair with two of the hottest boys in the school?" Luna chimed in serenely, sitting down across from her and pulling out her own books.

"Like I said," Hermione groused. "You know."

"I'm really sorry about what people are saying," Neville offered as he too took a seat. He seemed sincere if a bit out of his element. "They're totally out of line to be talking about you like that!" His cheeks were tinged pink with his anger, and Hermione smiled to finally find an ally who was not also a direct contributor to the mess she was in.

"Actually," Luna cut in, "a lot of the girls in my year are jealous."

"You know it's not true, right?" Hermione asked urgently, searching their faces. "Blaise was just being an arse. We're friends, nothing more."

"So you aren't dating Draco?"

"Well," she hedged, blushing, "I'm not _not_ —hanging out—or, well, _associating_ , with Draco…"

"That was lovely, Princess, truly poetic," she jumped for the second time that afternoon, turning to see Blaise, Draco, and, surprisingly, Pansy, arrive at their shared table.

"So," Draco drawled teasingly, "we're _associating_ now, are we, Granger?" Hermione cringed in mortification. She planned to ignore Blaise on principle, but she felt embarrassed to be caught discussing their relationship by Draco himself, and Pansy no less. He had taken the seat next to her, bumping her leg reassuringly with his to let her know he didn't mean anything by it. Luna grinned knowingly while Pansy simply rolled her eyes.

"Gum, anyone?" Pansy asked, holding up a tin of Drooble's. The Slytherins always had an air of aloofness and aristocratic surety about them that made even this odd grouping somehow work.

"Are you really still not talking to me?" Blaise whined, pouting when Hermione refused to acknowledge the tin of gum he tried to pass her.

"You should join forces with Derrick," Pansy offered. "He's still giving this idiot the cold shoulder, too." Hermione allowed herself a bit of a spiteful smile, she had forgotten that the two had recently started dating.

"Don't encourage her," Blaise frowned, opening his textbook in defeat. "It's not my fault the whole school's full of imbeciles. He'll come around."

"That was quite the passionate kiss you two shared," Luna stated bluntly while Neville cringed at his girlfriend's tactless comment.

"It really was," Draco growled softly beside her, causing a small flutter to surge through her chest.

"I heard that you have both boys under a powerful love potion and they're basically your slaves," Pansy stated, staring in disinterest at her fingernails. This earned a pair of scoffs from the boys in question. Clearly, they didn't approve of the idea.

"I heard that you're a succubus preying on the male students one at a time," Luna piped in helpfully and way too cheerfully.

"I heard that you're using me to cheat on Drakey here, and you don't know who the baby's father is." She scowled at Blaise.

"Can I just interject to say that there is, unequivocally— _No. Baby._ " She was thoroughly ignored.

"Personally, with that hair," Pansy gestured vaguely towards the Gryffindor's messy curls, "you'd be better off with Blaise. He has some natural curls already so the kid might look half-decent."

"Our kid would be bloody gorgeous!" Blaise insisted confidently, seeming thoroughly unconcerned by the glares Hermione was throwing him. "With my cheek bones and her eyes the kid would be a model for sure!" Hermione would have been flattered if she wasn't so busy planning his death.

"I heard that it's actually Draco and Blaise who are having the affair, and Hermione is just carrying their baby for them after conceiving using a dark magic potion." Hermione was not the only one to turn to Neville in shock, this one might take the cake. She hated to admit that she was a bit perturbed, but there was a tiny, vain part of herself that felt hurt that even after the display in the dining hall some people still didn't think she was desirable enough to merit more than broodmare status.

"Interesting…" Blaise leered suggestively at Draco.

"Don't even think about it, B," Draco smirked easily in return. "If you go and kiss me as well, Derrick will dump your sorry arse for sure." This earned a round of laughter and subsequently the conversation drifted to other topics.

By some miracle, they had decided last week to cancel this week's Prefect's meeting so when Hermione followed the small group out of the library an hour later she was looking forward to a quick dinner followed by some resumed studying in her room. Unfortunately, before they could even make it to the staircase Draco's hand came up to grab her arm, gently pulling her to a stop.

"We'll catch up with you guys later," he called to their friends' retreating forms, giving Blaise a quick nod before guiding her in the opposite direction down the hall.

"Mind sharing with the rest of us?" she huffed, following his lead in confusion. He stopped and turned to her, a hint of regret in his eyes that sent her anxiety sky-rocketing.

"McGonagall asked to see us," he admitted cautiously. "I didn't want to tell you before and watch you get all worked up."

She gulped, this couldn't be good news. Other than Madam Pomfrey, who was turning out to be quite the gossip, none of the professors had said a thing to her about Monday's incident but really, it was only a matter of time.

"Okay," she breathed out shakily, tightening her hold on the strap of her bag and gathering her courage. "Is she expecting us now?"

"Pretty much. We better hurry though," he stated seriously, placing a hand on her back to guide her forward. "If people see us alone in the hallway together they won't be able to figure out whether it's me or Blaise you're cheating on and then their tiny heads might explode from the effort."

Though she insisted it was too soon to joke about, she secretly appreciated his attempt to distract her and followed dutifully to her Head of House's office.

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McGonagall was waiting for them when they arrived and, to her discomfort, so was Professor Snape. Draco, though always respectful these days, straightened up notably upon seeing his Head of House and gave Snape a solemn nod.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, how good of you to join us." Straight to the point, McGonagall gestured to the two open seats in front of her desk, while Snape remained standing off to the side. "Surely you are aware of why I've asked to speak with you both today."

While Hermione often thought that her professor was underrated in her kindness and compassion, in this moment she was terrified. "I—I believe so, Professor," she managed, courageously managing to avoid dropping her gaze. Draco remained silent.

"The uproar that the two of you and Mr. Zabini have caused this past week is unacceptable. It has been a distraction in classes and immensely unbecoming of two Head students."

"With all due respect, Professor," Draco cut in, politely but firmly, "while Blaise's actions in the dining hall were ill-advised, his intentions were to protect Ms. Granger from some very undeserved verbal attacks. Surely you aren't suggesting that we be held responsible for his actions, or for the over-active imaginations and prejudices of the entire student body?"

"I am suggesting, Mr. Malfoy," she continued, unmoved, "that it is _not_ too much to expect that the Head students refrain from engaging in amorous activities in broad daylight on school grounds. And on school property, no less. Or perhaps you'd like to convince me that this report has also been taken out of context?" She raised a single, pointed eyebrow and Hermione finally dropped her head in shame.

"We're incredibly sorry, Professor," she apologized, increasingly sure that they would both be removed as Head students. "It was extremely bad judgement on our parts, and we regret that the student body has reacted so strongly." _More like they're acting like a bunch of rotten brats_ she thought to herself bitterly, biting her tongue to keep herself in check.

"That is appreciated, Ms. Granger, and ultimately it is no business of the staff's whether you, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Zabini are engaged in a consensual, romantic relationship, but—"

"If I may, Minerva," Snape cut in, "it is my suspicion that Mr. Zabini was, as indicated earlier, simply trying to make a point. Ms. Granger doesn't strike me as his type," he finished drily, giving Hermione a pointed once-over.

"Right," McGonagall agreed, a hint of understanding coming into her eyes. "Well, I have no desire to scold you further for a simple case of teenage hormones, but let me assure you that from this moment forward I expect nothing less than the highest levels of decorum, discretion, and maturity from our Head students. Is that clear?"

Hermione and Draco both nodded in agreement.

"In that case you're dismissed, I wish you both a pleasant evening."

She couldn't believe that they were escaping that easily and wasted no time in thanking both professors, apologizing once again, and heading for the door. Draco, however, remained behind.

"Could I have a quick word, professors?" Hermione looked at him in question but his expression gave nothing away and she realized that, being now several paces towards the door, it would be too awkward of her to stay. More than a little curious, she waited in the hall for a minute before deciding that she might as well head back to their dorm instead of lingering rather obviously outside of McGonagall's office.

She started off down the passageway, taking the long way back to the fourth floor in the hopes of avoiding any students returning from dinner. After that meeting, she figured she had sufficiently earned the right to ask the house elves to bring up dinner. Though it was not yet 7 the castle was dark and drafty, the Winter weather sneaking in through the old stonework and creating a chill away from the warm fireplaces of the common rooms.

She followed a seldom-used staircase down to the fourth floor and began making her way towards her dorm, located on the opposite side of the castle. She jumped slightly, hearing a noise coming from one of the disused classrooms to her left, and was surprised when the door opened and Harry came stumbling out and into the hall. She froze. The two hadn't been alone together since their confrontation by the lake nearly a month and half ago, and she wasn't exactly sure what to expect. He, on the other hand, seemed not to see her and began slowly walking down the hall in the same direction she had been going.

"H-Harry?" she called out tentatively. She was surprised that he hadn't seen her, a hint of worry creeping into her voice at his lack of awareness of his surroundings.

"Hermione?" he turned around jerkily, meeting her stare with wide, watery eyes. He stared at her silently for a beat too long. "What are you doing here?" His eyes darted around the corridor and she found herself doing the same, feeling a tad paranoid.

"I'm on my way back to my room," she began, cautiously. "You?"

"Dinner." He seemed to be having a hard time meeting her gaze but he remained standing in the hall, apparently in no rush to move off. They stood there, neither one saying a thing, while Hermione grew increasingly alarmed at the odd behavior of her friend.

"Well," she finally said, "I'll just continue on my way then…" She went to edge past him but to her surprise he turned and matched her pace, shuffling stiffly down the dim hallway. Now up close, she could see a few beads of sweat dotting his forehead and the rather rumpled condition of his robes. His skin was sallow and combined with the watery eyes, she frankly thought he looked rather awful compared to his usual boyish good looks.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked softly, holding her breath so as not to scare him off. His appearance was concerning, not to mention his relative indifference in face of the pair's painfully broken friendship. Did he suddenly have no comments to share on the state of her relationship with the Slytherins? He had been concerned enough to risk approaching her just a few weeks ago, and now, nothing.

He didn't answer her at first, but after a few seconds he slowed and came to a stop, still facing forward. "Are you happy, Hermione?"

She felt a dark lance of sadness rush through her chest, though for once she wasn't thinking about her own sorry plight. Something was seriously wrong with her former best friend, and they had become so estranged that she had no idea what was going on with him. She struggled to formulate the correct response, unsure why he was asking or what to say given the circumstances. It felt like the stakes were very high. With a jolt she felt him touch her, gently pressing the tips of two clammy fingers against the center of her palm in a familiar gesture the pair had developed over years of friendship.

Hermione knew that she needed to say something, but she felt choked by the pressure and their recent history, instead standing still as a statue and staring at the small point where their hands connected.

She didn't know how long she would have remained there frozen, but eventually Harry withdrew his hand and proceeded down the hall and out of sight, leaving her with a deep chill that had nothing to do with the time of year.

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When Hermione finally made it back to her dorm she found Draco sitting on the couches, waiting for her.

"Where'd you get off to?" He asked, eyeing her with a bit of curiosity.

"I might ask the same," she replied, giving him a look. She had decided to keep her strange encounter with Harry to herself, for the time being, feeling a mixture of protection and uncertainty about what she should do, what she had seen. She felt a wave of weariness crash over her all of a sudden, a byproduct of her immensely stressful week. She dropped her bag carelessly on the floor and moved over to pick up Crookshanks from his spot next to Draco, ignoring the cat's grumble as she stole his preferred spot.

She sighed, heavily. She had temporarily forgotten about their meeting with Professor McGonagall, but sitting there next to Draco brought all those feelings of humiliation and shame rushing back. She cringed at the memories of her teachers discussing their assumed romantic relationship. Sighing, she flopped her head against the back of the couch, closing her eyes and seriously considering falling asleep then and there. It was much easier to ignore the complexities of her life while asleep.

To her surprise, Draco reached out and hooked an arm around her shoulder, pulling her firmly down until she found herself neatly snuggled against his side, her head resting against his chest. Despite their recent intimacy, Draco had always been more restrained in his casual touches, especially compared to Blaise's overtly tactile nature. Though, as he ran a hand comfortingly along her side and up into her hair, this didn't feel like a particularly _casual_ embrace. She relaxed into his hold, reveling in the soothing rhythm of his hand as he continued his calm strokes against her side.

"I had to get permission for something," Draco stated, his voice rumbling against her ear. It took her a few seconds to realize that he was replying to her earlier unasked question.

"Hmmm?" She had closed her eyes again by this point, deciding that her current position made sleep an even more tempting possibility.

"I got permission from Snape and Mcgonagall to leave school grounds on Saturday."

"Oh?" This caused her to perk up a bit, pushing against his side so she could sit up a bit and see his face. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Actually, _we're_ going somewhere," he replied matter of factly, his easy expression unchanged. She searched his face intently, Slytherins were always up to something.

"This is about Blaise's list again, isn't it?" she accused, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

"A bit paranoid, don't you think?" He raised a single eyebrow in challenge. "I just figured we could both use a little break from the idiots around here."

She continued to stare at him, unconvinced. "I don't trust you."

"You probably shouldn't," he smirked, giving her a wink. She attempted to say something more but he cut her off, pulling her down once again as he shifted, bringing his body to lay more fully on the couch. She pretended to grumble but was secretly pleased, the feeling of being snuggled against him enough to make up for some of the recent drama. Though her hormones were screaming at her to make a move, her exhausted brain was content in enjoying the rhythmic motion of his chest and the warmth of his body against hers. They lay there in silence for many minutes, Hermione drowsily attempting to stay awake while Draco remained lost in his thoughts.

"Rough week, huh?" he asked finally, tickling her curls with his breath where they were piled near his shoulder.

"I don't know," she teased, running a playful finger up his ribs. "It wasn't all bad. Blaise is a pretty good kisser." She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, grinning in impish satisfaction at the way his hand tightened against her side.

"Lucky girl," he breathed out roughly, staring down into her eyes. "Allow me to make it even better."

He dragged his hand slowly up her back and into her hair, pulling her into an aggressive kiss against his firm mouth. A shiver shot down her spine and caused her toes to curl. He shifted and pulled her until she was laying fully on top of him, his lips continuing to move roughly against hers, before suddenly moving and flipping her underneath him. Before she could register it he was pulling away, giving her an appraising look as he stood staring down at her flushed and frustrated form.

"Clear your schedule for Saturday, Granger." She frowned in indignation as he smugly picked up her cat and disappeared up the stairs and into his room.


	22. Chapter 22

_Hello lovely readers - I am almost scared to post this after going so long without an update, hopefully a few of you are still interested ;-) Grad school has definitely left me with less time than I'd like to focus on this story, but one of my goals for the new year is to come up with a more regular posting schedule. That's not to say that I can promise to update super frequently now, but hopefully you won't have to wait five months for the next chapter._

 _Thank you as always to everyone who has reviewed, and sorry for not responding to the reviews from the latest chapter. I went back and read through many of those as inspiration to get back into a writing mood - they really area a good motivator!_

 _I hope you enjoy this next installment, and happy 2018!_

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Hermione looked anxiously at the clock for the third time in five minutes, giving a resigned sigh upon confirming that it still wasn't 11 o'clock. Crookshanks watched her warily from his spot by the window, likely remembering the incident from earlier in the morning when she had accidentally sat on him—a victim of her distraction.

"Still holding grudges, Crooks?" Hermione cooed, looking to her cat for a diversion.

She made her way over to his perch, determined to distract herself for at least a brief time. She allowed a small smile to break out over her face at the small purr he let out, succumbing to the expert rhythm of her scratching. She was determined to stay in her cat's good graces, admittedly worried by his recent habit of hanging out in Draco's room. To help make her case, she wordlessly summoned the bag of treats she'd recently purchased—no need to be above bribery.

Draco had refused to give her any details as to his plans for the day, and it was predictably driving her up the wall. She had spent all of Friday subtly badgering him, a difficult task considering the professional distance the two were still attempting to keep in the wake of the school rumors. She had managed to confirm that she would need to dress in warm layers and that they would be leaving at 11 am, but in her opinion this qualified as the bare minimum information imaginable. It wasn't that she couldn't appreciate a good surprise, but there was already so much left unspoken between the two Heads. _Was this a date_? She had barely been able to sleep the night before agonizing over the possibilities.

As it was she had decided to go with a pair of simple, but stylish, jeans paired with a white button-up shirt peeking out of a maroon jumper. A pair of boots and light jacket would go under her heavy winter coat, and she had her hat, gloves, and scarf sitting on the end of her bed in preparation. Though she would never admit it out loud, she was hoping to achieve a 'cute but casual' look, prepared for any physical or emotional adventure the day may hold. Mentally reviewing these items, she wordlessly assured herself that everything was in place and she should stop being so nervous. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, so she tried yet again to distract herself by watching a few students making their way along the village path. It hadn't snowed in a few weeks, though some patches still remained. It would be December 1st tomorrow, and she knew that Christmas decorations would soon be making their way around the castle.

"Look, Crooks, birds!" she whispered teasingly, tapping her finger against the glass. His yellow eyes widened comically, tail twitching as he switched into hunter-mode to stalk the tiny creatures flitting about some ways off. She rolled her eyes as he leapt ferociously at the glass, wondering for a moment whether this had been the origin of his distinctive smooshed face.

Her attention was caught by a flash of red and black hair, and for a moment she thought it was Ron and Harry before she realized it was just a group of fourth years making their way out of the castle. Her heart raced, thinking about the piece of parchment sitting tucked away in her dresser drawer. After her strange encounter with Harry a few nights back, she had decided to start writing down her observations and concerns regarding the wizard. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do with it as of yet, but being a fastidiously organized and caring person she followed her inclination to keep a record. Without thinking about it she found herself walking over to open the drawer, running her eyes over her own handwriting that contained a rough timeline of observations and troubling behavior.

The knock startled her.

"Granger, not trying to get out of this, are you?"

She guiltily shoved the piece of paper back into the desk, glancing at the clock to see that it had somehow become 11:10 without her noticing.

"Sorry, lost track of time!" she apologized, opening the door to the smirking blonde with a hint of embarrassment painting her cheeks. "Let me just grab my things really quick."

Draco gave her a nod, turning to rest his body against the banister that encased the upper-landing of the Head's dorm. She noted with relief that he was dressed in clothing similar to her own getup, at least she had gotten that part right!

"So," she tried, standing before him once again with gloves and scarf in hand, "lead the way, I guess?"

He laughed, allowing her to walk past him down the stairs and over to the portrait-hole. "No lakes this time Granger, I promise."

The pair made their way out of the castle, Hermione feeling self-conscious the entire time. She was still a bit gun-shy from the recent school rumors, and though she knew she was being ridiculous it felt like she was asking for trouble walking next to Draco through the school halls. He gave her an exasperated look after she nearly ran into a suit of armor in her attempts to keep an 'appropriate' distance between them. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he reached out to prevent her scarf from slipping off her shoulder.

"Please tell me you're not going to be this jittery all day," he drawled.

She stuck her tongue out in response, though felt mildly chastened. "Sorry. I recall someone promising that we'd be leaving school grounds?"

"I did say something like that, didn't I," he agreed, teasingly.

"And we'll be leaving the grounds to go to _where_ exactly?"

She received no response, but as they were nearing the back of the Quidditch pitch she suspected that he had somehow arranged for a portkey, having taken one from this area previously with Luna and Neville. She couldn't help the little thrill that shot up her spine at the mystery of where they might be heading, biting at her lip as he indeed led her to the small hut that she knew housed the transportation devices some of the upper years and staff were authorized to use.

She waited outside and after a minute he joined her once again, a small brown pouch clutched is his left hand and a smug grin breaking across his handsome face.

"Let's escape the rumor mill, shall we?" he suggested, holding out his hand with the pouch.

"With pleasure," she agreed, giggling slightly as she placed her hand atop his to clutch at the leathery pouch.

It felt a bit odd to be standing there holding hands, the small object bulging between them, and after twenty seconds, when still nothing had happened, Hermione began to feel the awkwardness creep in. She began nervously tapping her fingers where they rested against his, looking down at their collective shoes as she wracked her brain for some neutral topic of conversation.

"Calm down," he whispered kindly, twisting his hand until their fingers interlaced and giving them a reassuring squeeze. She only had a moment to look up and offer him a small, shy smile before the vortex swept them away.

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She had only travelled by portkey a few times in her young life, and Hermione stumbled coming out of the tight swirl of magic, her hand still clasped tightly with Draco's.

" _Ummphff_ "

Looking up to meet the gaze of her companion, she saw that Draco had somehow managed to have even more trouble than she had, knocking into a nearby brick wall with a little less dignity than she had come to expect from the blonde. She smirked, laughing as he dropped her hand to brush sheepishly at his coat, pocketing the pouch in the same motion.

"Some aristocrat you are, hmm?" she teased him lightly, moving away from the wall to allow him space to move.

"Just distracted by a pretty girl, is all," he countered smoothly, his composure quick to return. Though she scoffed at his cheeky words, inside she couldn't help but be pleased at the compliment.

"Let's go!"

It took Hermione a moment to remember that they had travelled somewhere, and she followed him excitedly out of the alleyway onto a bustling pedestrian roadway. The smells and the noise hit her simultaneously as she took in the wonderful sight of a clearly magical marketplace. Though it looked a bit like Diagon Alley, the street felt much more compressed by the presence of a multitude of street vendors and there seemed to be multiple levels of shops, connected high off the ground by moving bridges. The exuberant chatter in a foreign language gave it away.

"Draco," she breathed, stunned by all the activity. "Are we in Wizarding France?"

The wizard in question seemed very pleased by her reaction, leaning his hip casually against a nearby bench and seeming very much at ease with his surroundings.

"Welcome to Paris, Granger."

She was eager to explore, diving with semi-confidence into the fray as he trailed behind her in dutiful amusement. Though some of the shops looked familiar, there were many more clothing and food establishments than she was used to seeing in the British magical communities. She wasn't surprised to learn that the Malfoy family had been coming here for generations to procure their expensively tailored robes. Draco bought them a snack of deliciously delicate beignets, leaving her to drool over the French bookstore while he momentarily disappeared into the crowd to exchange some money.

Hermione was mesmerized by all of the Saturday morning shopping taking place, her rudimentary French no match against the rapid bartering and friendly conversations taking place all around. Though she hadn't had any exact idea of where he might take her, Paris was still a much welcome surprise. She was too busy doing a mental calculation of how many trinkets her pocket money would buy her to notice that Draco was steadily leading them toward a large archway. It was a gleaming structure covered in stone and stained-glass, and Draco had to wrap an arm around her waist to guide her as she stared up at the gigantic structure in awe. There were a dozen or so spinning bronze doors located along the base of the arch, and it wasn't until they were standing in front of one that Hermione realized she had been steered away from the marketplace.

"We're leaving?" she asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"We can come back," he promised, momentarily distracted as he seemed to check that they were in front of the right door. Apparently finding what he was looking for, he moved to stand in front of her, giving her a slightly nervous grin that looked wholly out of place on the typically-smug Slytherin. "I actually had a different reason for bringing you to Paris."

He reached forward to give both of her hands a quick squeeze before stepping aside and gesturing at the door in front of them. "After you."

Hermione was smart enough to deduce that the door would be a gateway to some part of the city, but her breath still caught as she emerged from the swinging glass to see the Louvre standing gloriously in front of her. It was a cloudy late-Fall day, but as she blinked she saw it in the bright light of early-Spring, the way it had looked eight years earlier when her parents brought her before the start of her first year at Hogwarts.

"The Louvre!" she cried out, spinning around to grab Draco in a tight hug. "This is amazing!"

She squealed as he built off her momentum, loving the feel of his strong arms as they held her close and spun her around. Both teens were grinning at each other as they slowly parted, drawing a few stares from passers-by.

"I thought you might appreciate some inspiration for your drawings," he muttered, seemingly pleased by her enthusiastic reaction. "Were you surprised?"

"Very!" Hermione turned back to the museum, still a bit awe struck. "You do know this is a Muggle museum, right?" Though she was teasing him, she was genuinely surprised that he had known the significance of the institution.

"Actually," he said, taking her hand and walking with her towards the entrance, "it's both."

"You're joking," she murmured. She scanned over the impressive building once again, wondering if she'd be able to reveal the museum's magical secrets through sheer force of will. "I never noticed anything unusual last time I was here…"

"You've been here before?" Draco ground to a halt, his face falling into a full-on pout, which Hermione couldn't help but find adorable. "When have you been in France?"

"I have some relatives here, my parents have brought me on occasion and we visited the museum during my Spring break in the term before I started at Hogwarts." He did seem to be honestly put out, so she rushed to reassure him. "Oh Draco, I was only 11 at the time, I barely remember anything and we didn't even stay that long." It wasn't exactly the truth, her parents had let her roam for hours two days in a row, but no need to risk an already ruffled ego.

"I am TRULY excited to be here, it was an absolutely PERFECT idea," she insisted.

"Okay," he finally conceded, and in a move that had her practically swooning he reached up to gently cup her face, pulling her in to a soft, chaste kiss. "Shall we, then?"

"One second." Hermione reluctantly pulled away, scanning the area for the trinket vendors that she knew frequented popular tourist locations. Some rusty French and a few hand gestures later she returned, disposable camera in hand.

"What's that?" Draco asked, unsure as to the purpose of the small plastic box.

"Smile," she coaxed him cheekily, then laughed at his expression once the bright flash had gone off. "Just a little something to remember our outing."

Camera in one hand and Draco's in the other, Hermione happily led the way into the museum to indulge one of her top passions.

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Four hours later and Hermione was very glad to be sitting down.

The museum had been everything she'd remembered and more, not to mention the thrill of sharing the experience with Draco. Whether or not it had been a wise decision, she had decided to let him take the lead in navigating the Muggle ticketing desk, insisting that they take in the art the "proper" way before seeking out the Wizarding branch. They'd had a bit of a friendly argument on which was actually the _proper_ way, deciding in the end that they would simply disagree. Draco had clearly been out of his element amongst so many Muggles, but to his credit he'd been mostly successful in hiding his discomfort.

They'd spent three and a half hours in the museum before Hermione insisted that being in Paris was too good of an opportunity to waste, dragging him out to walk along the Seine and take in the sights. Still, it was nearly December after all so Draco had been quick to suggest that they seek refuge in one of the cafés, pouting slightly when Hermione insisted that they sit outdoors.

"Aren't you freezing, witch?" he grumbled good naturedly, settling in at the cozy two-person table.

"There's heaters on!" she rolled her eyes in return, pointing firmly at large metallic lamps that kept the patio to a manageable level. She had to smother a laugh when the blonde reached out a tentative and curious hand, testing the heat.

"In that case, I'll let you cast your own warming spell." He seemed smug until she leaned forward across the table, hand going subtly to her pocket and a mischievous smile on her face. As she murmured something quietly under her breath, Draco felt his own charm wobble and then expand to wrap around Hermione as well.

"You were saying?" she quirked an eyebrow at him, pleased by his low whistle of approval.

"That's quite the trick, Granger, altering my spell like that." Then, leaning closer so his head was bent down towards hers, he whispered "Pretty hot."

She blushed at his rough tone of voice, purposefully looking away from the flash of heat sparking in his eyes. She could feel him shifting his legs under their table, and as a waiter approached she felt him hook an ankle behind hers, pulling one of her legs to gently tuck in against his own.

" _Bonjour, que puis-je vous avoir?_ "

Hermione knew enough French to order the small pastry she'd been eyeing in the window display, but was impressed to learn that Draco was more than passably competent in the foreign language. She watched him skeptically once the waiter had retreated, having caught enough of his order to be suspicious.

"Wine? A little different than your usual, don't you think?" Draco simply shrugged in response, leaning back comfortably in his chair.

"I might have lied a bit earlier when I said that this trip had _nothing_ to do with Blaise's list…"

"Oh." She wanted to slap herself, forgetting for a moment the single item she had deigned to add to Blaise's notorious HLLLL list—she had wanted to drink wine. "Going a bit above and beyond, don't you think? Drinking wine at a café in Paris?"

"Only way I know how, Granger." And there was that blasted smirk again, lending his handsome features a dangerous bent.

The waiter soon returned with a bottle, two glasses, and Hermione's pastry. She wasn't at all surprised to see that it was a vintage bottle, though she was curious to learn how he knew anything about Muggle wines. He had gone with a crisp white, the sharp flavor bursting over her tongue at the first sip.

"I hope you weren't doing this with your parents on your last trip." She laughed at his sarcastic gibe, clearly he was still bothered that he hadn't been the first to take her to France. Deciding to be a bit daring, she shifted her leg to subtly rub against his thigh where it was still trapped.

"I've never been to China, maybe you'll take me there next?" She bit her lip in an attempt to remain serious and not ruin the sultry effect she was hoping to achieve; by the surprised and intrigued look in his eye, she had been at least moderately successful.

As the two sat and drank their wine the conversation quickly turned to their respective family vacations, and Hermione was intrigued to learn that Draco had been coming to Paris since he was practically an infant. She knew that the Malfoy's had property in France, and that Mrs. Malfoy had in fact taken up residence in the country after the Ministry takeover of Malfoy manor following the war. She remembered from their brief (but eventful) visit to the French Alps that his family had done more than simply shop, but was surprised to learn how prominent the society was here for British and other European purebloods. She couldn't, however, help but cringe at his casual mention of the Greengrass family, a reaction that did not go unnoticed.

"Not a fan of Daphne?" He teased, pouring a bit more wine into her glass before topping off his own.

"Playing dumb doesn't become you," she huffed at him, sitting back and fiddling with the stem of her glass as she concentrated on watching the various people walking by. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage to ask the question that had been on her mind for some time. "Is there—do you have a history with Astoria?"

It had been the question plaguing her for practically a month now, the squirming heat of jealousy bubbling up inside her chest every time she caught the brunette Slytherin chatting with Draco. After the recent rumors circulating the school there had been some minor negative reactions from the Slytherins, but Hermione had caught Astoria openly glaring a few times from across the Great Hall.

"It's not a history, exactly, not in the way you're probably thinking, but I suppose there is something I should share with you." She didn't like his suddenly guilty look, and she took a large gulp of wine to steel herself. "Astoria and I were engaged."

Hermione thought she might be sick, setting her glass down with a thump and breathing in quickly through her nose to calm the nausea she felt building in her stomach.

"En-engaged?"

"Technically, pre-engaged." Draco sat up straight, running his hand sheepishly through his hair and offering a small grimace. "Our parents arranged it after the end of my 5th year."

"That's…but you're…but you're not engaged now?" She didn't like the way her voice was sounding, but honestly she had just been expecting to hear that the two had dated, not that they'd been planning a wedding.

"No!" he assured her, shaking his head insistently. "It was never something I wanted, to be forced into an arranged marriage, and the contract was voided the second my father was sentenced to Azkaban. Our families have always been close," he continued, seeing that she still seemed shocked. "When I finally convinced them that nothing was going to happen with Pansy, they decided that Astoria would be the perfect match. Daphne was already promised to some other bloke."

She wasn't quite sure how to respond. He spoke so casually of arranged marriages, but the concept seemed so foreign to her, not to mention cruel.

"Did you date while you were 'pre-engaged'?" she used air quotes on the last word, barely repressing the bitterness in her voice. If possible, he seemed even guiltier at this question.

"Not exactly. You might remember that 6th year was a bit of a mess for me. I—uh—I was hooking up with a few different witches until Severus came and set me straight. It's not terribly proper for an engaged couple to 'date' in the traditional sense." He wouldn't meet her eyes at this point, downing nearly a full glass of wine and clenching his fist against the table.

Hermione was both jealous and saddened by the admission, as she too remembered how difficult their last year had been, and she hadn't even been a spy! Still, it hurt her to think of him with other women, and she wondered once again what the outcome of their own 'interactions' would be.

"Look, Hermione," she was surprised both by the use of her first name as well as his move to stand up and pull his chair around the table to sit next to her. "I don't have the perfect dating history, but I hope you won't judge my actions as a troubled teen too harshly." He reached up to grasp her hand where it was resting on the table. "Astoria and I are no longer engaged, I never cared for her romantically, and I'm really excited to be here with you."

It was a lot to process, but there was no denying that he looked sincere, so she squeezed his hand gently in reassurance. "I trust you," she said, offering up a weak smile. "Just a lot of new information to sort through."

"I know, and I'm sorry about that," he agreed. "I promise to make it up to you."

She had no doubt that he would, and was happy when he leaned in to capture her mouth in a quick, but passionate, kiss. Before she could lean in and continue what he had started, he was standing once again and holding his hand out, placing a few Muggle coins on their table.

"One last surprise for the day, before we head back." She looked up at him curiously, he had more planned? "We're meeting my mother for dinner."

All of her previous feelings of forgiveness rushed out of her, to be replaced by dread. _Changed my mind_ , she decided, thoroughly shocked. _I'm going to kill him_.

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 _Let me know what you think!_


	23. Chapter 23

_Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story! To show my appreciation, I worked hard to push out another chapter ;)_

 _Special thank you to all of my reviewers, and I hope everyone enjoys the dinner with Narcissa!_

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 _Revenge will be sweet_ , Hermione decided, as she fidgeted nervously next to an ever-calm Draco. She was by no means prepared to meet his mother, and not only had he sprung this on her but he'd even allowed her to get tipsy beforehand! He had led them back to the Wizarding district where they were now waiting for the Malfoy matriarch outside of a magical perfumery. _Flipping fantastic_ , she thought to herself dryly, trying not to panic.

"Does your mother…know about me?" she asked timidly, trying to resist the urge to scuff her shoes against the pavement, a nervous habit that she was trying to kick.

"What, that you're Hermione Granger? Something tells me that yes, she is familiar with your work," he joked sarcastically, knowing that there were few in the Wizarding world who wouldn't instantly recognize the Head Girl from her role during the War.

She blanched, yet another reminder of how awkward this meeting would be. "No, I meant, what did you tell her? Does she know that we're friends, that we're—uh—heads together?" Her real question, whether his mother knew they were 'dating', got seemingly lodged in her throat. "She does know that I'm joining you, right?"

"Yes, Granger. I told her you were joining us. Relax." He grasped her shoulders in a quick, comforting gesture. "She knows that you were made Head Girl, though I haven't written her much this year so she may have been a bit surprised that we're hanging out. The fact that I've had my tongue down your throat, well," he paused, grinning at her lasciviously, "that she'll probably suspect."

She gave him a playful shove, his words not doing much to help relieve her nerves. "Okay. Well, does she know that I'm—well—that I'm sick?" His eyes darkened, the playful light shuttered behind a hard look.

"No," he admitted, his voice stiff. "I haven't said anything to her, I wasn't sure if you wanted me to say anything…"

"It's fine!" She assured him, bringing her arms up to cross lightly against her chest, warding off the cold. "Better even. Not that I don't trust your mother, but it is rather private, as you know…" she trailed off, awkwardly.

It wasn't that she was holding a grudge against Narcissa, per say, but it would be impossible to ignore the complicated history between the muggle-born and the Malfoy family. She and Draco had been struggling with that history for months now. She hadn't personally attended Narcissa's trial, but she knew enough details from the widespread news coverage at the time. Many people had been outraged at the light sentence, demanding that she be locked up in Azkaban to rot with her husband. Hermione hadn't spared much of a thought for the outcome at the time, she'd been too busy trying to emotionally and physically recover from the War. She could only trust that Draco wouldn't invite her to socialize with his mother if she were anything like his father.

Shifting to look over the nearby wares of a street cart, Hermione made a mental note to talk to Draco more about his time in the War.

"Hello, Mother." She tensed, somehow having missed the appearance of the noble blonde. She watched nervously as mother and son embraced, reassured that at least it appeared to be a genuinely warm greeting on both sides.

"Draco, what a wonderful surprise to have you home for the evening. I hadn't realized the 7th years had permission to leave school grounds on the weekends, I was very excited to get your owl." Narcissa smiled fondly at her son.

"Well, not the 7th years exactly," Draco admitted, "but the Head students have conditional approval to leave when we need to." _Or want to_ , thought Hermione, remembering the now several occasions this year when she had spontaneously apparated away from school grounds.

"Taking advantage of your position, I see," Narcissa chided lightly, teasingly.

"And I'm not the only one," he countered good-naturedly. "Mother, may I formally introduce you to Hermione Granger?"

"Of course, Ms. Granger, my son mentioned you'd be joining us. It's a pleasure."

Hermione mentally urged herself not to embarrass herself, but it was difficult to remember how to properly shake hands when she was too busy scanning the older woman's face for signs of how Narcissa truly felt about the meeting. She ended up being none the wiser. "Mrs. Malfoy, it's lovely to meet you as well."

"Narcissa is fine, dear, no need to resort to formalities amongst friends. Were you doing some shopping?" She lightly nodded to the display of jewelry in the cart behind them.

"Oh! No, I was just browsing, I suppose," Hermione trailed off as Narcissa stepped towards her eagerly, scanning the brunette's face and clothing before turning her attention back towards the cart.

"With your complexion, something in silver would be quite lovely. Something simple and classic, no point in overwhelming those delicate features. Though were you thinking everyday use, or did you have a special occasion in mind?"

Hermione was completely flabbergasted by the quick transition and rapid-fire questions. Luckily, Draco stepped in before she had a chance to mumble any sort of panicked response.

"Mother!" he groaned, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Don't you have dinner waiting for us at home? I'd hate to let Frenny's food get cold…"

"Some other time, perhaps?" Narcissa conceded with a small smile, straightening and moving back towards the pair. Hermione nodded her head fervently in relief. She could still feel the alcohol vaguely clouding her brain, and was exceedingly grateful to be spared from having to discuss jewelry, a topic she knew little to nothing about, with her not-quite-a-boyfriend's rich, sophisticated mother.

She gave a final, lingering glance around at her bustling surroundings before accepting Draco's proffered hand and disappearing with a crack of side-along apparition.

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Dinner was turning out to be a surprisingly tolerable affair. Deciding it would have been unwise to consume additional alcohol, Hermione surreptitiously observed the mother-son pair as she sipped at her water. She'd always thought that Draco took after his father in his appearance, particularly as he had grown older and inherited Lucius' height and broad shoulders. Now, though, as she had the opportunity to really examine him with his mother, she saw a different set of similarities emerge. His hair, once the pale blonde of his father's, had darkened slightly over the years and she saw that the texture more closely resembled Narcissa's thick, straight blonde locks. Though his face had matured into hard lines and strong angles, their mouths had the same shape, and she was a bit unnerved to discovered an identical set of familiar grey eyes occasionally gazing at her throughout the dinner.

They were eating in a small dining hall, and though it wasn't as grand as she had always pictured Malfoy Manor to be, what she had seen of the house so far was several steps above modest. A six-bedroom French villa, she had gotten a preliminary tour on their way to the dining room, enough to catch a breathtaking view of the coastal cliffside through the picture windows in the sitting room. Draco had promised her a tour after dinner, and she was admittedly excited to have the chance to explore.

The food had consisted of a grilled salmon, winter vegetables, and a delicate corn soup, and Hermione had to observe Draco carefully to see which silverware were intended for which course. She noticed that his posture seemed a bit straighter here than it typically did in the Hogwarts dining hall, and she would have laughed had she not been too caught up in trying to mimic his formal bearing. She had a flashback to the many times she had eaten dinner with the Weasley family, and briefly marveled at the stark difference in family meals. The food was, unsurprisingly, delicious, and the conversation had stayed safely on topics of school and Narcissa's adjustment to her new home. Hermione had been asked a standard battery of polite questions, including what subjects she would be taking her N.E.W.T.s in, her plans for the future, and what her parents did for a living. Hermione had gotten a bit nervous at the last question, wondering if perhaps the evening was about to take a turn into the blood supremacy rhetoric the Malfoy family was famous for, but Narcissa remained gracious and curious to learn about the world of Muggle dentistry.

It wasn't until halfway through the bread pudding when she finally pounced.

"So, you never did say what brought you two to Paris today." Narcissa's tone remained casual, but there was a twinkle in her eye recognizable to mothers everywhere. Hermione gulped as she saw Draco tense up in his seat across from her.

"Just doing some sight-seeing," Draco replied casually. "Taking a break from the hellions we have to oversee at school."

"You know, some say that Paris is the most romantic city in the world," Narcissa continued, glancing knowingly between the two teens.

There was an awkward beat of strained silence before Hermione attempted to save them. "Actually, my mother always told me she thought that Barcelona was the most romantic place in the world. My parents supposedly took a trip there when I was a baby."

"Oh yes, Barcelona is something special," Narcissa agreed. "Still, there is something inspiring about the French city, wouldn't you agree?"

"Errrhmmmm," Hermione couldn't think of a good answer, glaring at Draco's embarrassed face as she tried to will him to help her out. Luckily, they were saved by a house elf.

"Mistress Narcissa," Frenny, the household's new elf, popped into the room. "There be a lady here to see yous. Someone from Mistress' Women Society."

"Oh, it must be Maureen," Narcissa thanked Frenny, moving to stand. "She mentioned she might need to run some numbers by me before our event next week. This might take a bit of time, please go ahead and finish your dessert."

Hermione felt relieved at not having to answer any more probing questions, though it was clear that there was still a fair amount of tension lingering in the air given the as of yet still undefined relationship the two were engaged in.

"Still care for that tour?" Draco offered, giving her an apologetic grin.

Hermione followed Draco away from the dining room, glad for the excuse to escape the probing she suspected Narcissa was eager to continue. They could hear her receiving her visitor near what Hermione assumed was the front hall, but she let him tug her around to the back to show off the house's views she'd only had a glimpse of before. The sun had just barely set, leaving her enough light to take in the small garden and grounds, which tapered off into rocky outcroppings before disappearing over the edge of the cliff. The ocean was spread out before them, and Draco told her there was a path that led down to the water that he'd often gotten in trouble for wandering down in his youth.

It was large but not distasteful, Hermione was surprised to admit, as they walked through the various rooms. She had learned at dinner that there were a few neighbors in the surrounding hills, mostly French Wizarding families as well as a few ex-patriots similar to Narcissa who enjoyed the privilege of a second (or third or fourth) home. She was a bit surprised when Draco came to the final room on his tour.

"And this would be my room," he announced confidently, opening the door and allowing her to pass through.

"Really?" She spun around slowly, taking in the large space and expensive décor. "It looks just like all of the other guest rooms you've showed me." It was starkly different from what she'd seen of his room at Hogwarts, there were essentially no personal objects here, and the blue and white color scheme was an extreme departure from his preferred green and grey.

"I only really lived here for a month or so before returning to school," he explained, moving further inside and taking a seat on the edge of the bed while she continued to explore. "My mother had the whole thing redecorated before we moved in, wanted to erase all traces of my father," he bit out, scowling briefly.

"Well, it's certainly a nice room," she tried to mollify him. "I'm not quite up to snuff on my interior design spells," she admitted, scrunching her face as she tapped her wand absently against her thigh, considering the royal blue walls. "But maybe we can transfigure you a bookshelf?" she offered, gesturing toward the neat pile of books that were stacked on the nightstand.

"Or," he countered, getting up and walking towards her, "what if we just create some memories?"

Draco didn't give her an opportunity to answer, firmly pushing her body back against the nearest wall. Her breath escaped her in a rush only to be captured by his own descending lips, sealing their mouths in a passionate kiss. She could feel the strong planes of his athletic body pushing into every inch of hers, and she groaned into his mouth at the exquisite feeling. He continued to devour her lips, hungrily, threading one hand up into her unruly curls while the other settled purposefully against the curve of her waist. As she brought her own hands up to clutch desperately at the material of his shirt, she felt him slide a single finger down to trace the contours of her ass, a heady mixture of confidence and restraint.

Their hands hadn't really wandered during previous encounters, but at her mewl of encouragement she felt his whole hand slide down, gripping her ass possessively as he hauled her leg up to rest against his side. From this angle, he was able to slide in even more firmly against her, causing her to break away from his mouth, her head laying back against the wall as she gasped at the increase in sensation.

"Mmmmmhhhhmmmm."

He seemed to waste no time, ducking his head to nip roughly at the pale skin of her neck. The combination of lips, teeth, and tongue sent goose-flesh tearing down her arms, and she dug her nails involuntarily into the muscles of his chest. Though she heard him hiss at the slight pain, he refused to give up his quest, laving at her exposed collar bone before retracing his movements up the opposite side of her neck.

He pulled back suddenly, panting as he met her hooded gaze. She stared back, breath uneven, unable to look away from the dark grey swirling in his eyes.

She wasn't sure what he'd been looking for, but evidently he'd found it, as a moment later he was leaning back in, molding his lips against her mouth once more. She met his demanding kiss eagerly, pressing her body against his as their movements steadily fed the heat coursing through her body. If she were thinking clearly, she might have been concerned when she felt his hands move to the bottom of her jumper, his mother was just downstairs after all, but instead she felt relieved. They broke apart as he tugged the article over her head, dropping it to the floor moments later as his hands tangled roughly in her hair to pull her face back to his.

Spurred on by the arousal that had flooded her body, Hermione rested her hand softly against his belt before boldly tugging out his shirt and slipping a delicate hand underneath the material. She'd been luckily enough to see him shirtless on a select few occasions, but never before had she been so lucky as to touch him. As he swirled his tongue inside her mouth, she eagerly slid her fingers against the hard ridges of his stomach, loving the way his body shuddered against her own.

She had been aware for some time now of the hard bulge pressed against her inner thigh, but despite her hormone-addled brain, she had enough of her wits about her to recognize that she wasn't ready to really 'engage' with said bulge head on. Her leg was still wrapped around Draco's waist, now held there of her own accord, so she tried not to jostle him too much. It was hard to focus on anything given the activities they were engaged in, but the task became even harder as she felt his fingers begin to play with the buttons at the top of her shirt. His lips were once again sucking on a pulse point in her neck as he slid open the first button, gently caressing the sliver of skin that was exposed. Before she could formulate any sort of reaction, his hands ran down her sides, stroking lightly at her stomach over her shirt before inching up to rest just under her breasts. Hermione had never had a boy's hands so close to someplace so sensitive, though Merlin knew Ron had tried, and her breathing sped up in anticipation of what he might do.

His palms were pressed against her ribs, his thumbs nestled against the underside of her breasts while his fingers curved around the outsides, lightly framing the supple flesh. She cried out softly as he slowly rotated his wrists, circling around the edges of her breasts without actually touching them. The teasing pressure was driving her crazy, and never before in her life had she been so aware of her own nipples, now hard and straining against the confines of her cotton bra. She once again sought out his mouth, unsure if she wanted to beg him to continue or to blushingly push him away. Luckily, she was spared from any decision making as he moved his hands to drag down against her ribs, the firm pressure of his fingers causing her to squirm against the ticklish sensation, pushing her body provocatively into his. He finally pushed away from her, groaning as she dropped her leg safely back to the floor.

With hardly a pause he tugged her over towards his bed, pushing her to lie back against the duvet, and planting a quick kiss to her swollen lips before stepping back.

"Perfect," he mumbled, mouth caught halfway between a smirk and a grin. "Stay just like that."

"Huh?" she asked, confused. Her feet were still on the floor while her arms were resting near her head, hair a riot of curls. Her lips were parted as she tried to catch her breath, and her shirt was pulled slightly askew, exposing a glimpse of her stomach and cleavage.

"I'm memorizing you like this," he replied easily. "When I'm back here in a few weeks, stuck with no one but my mother and the snobs of the French Wizarding pureblood society, I'm going to remember how you look right now—turned on and spread out for me on my bed."

Hermione gaped in what she was sure was an unattractive expression of shock. _When had he become so brazen?_ She made a move to get up but he quickly held out a hand to urge her to remain in place.

"Wait, I haven't even gotten a picture yet!" She yelped as he non-verbally summoned their disposable camera from where he'd deposited it on his desk, scrambling off the bed as she made to take it from his hands.

"Draco Malfoy, you prat!" she squealed, barely heard over the sound of his laughter. He could have easily held her off but he eventually conceded, handing over the camera and holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

She remained a bit huffy, righting her shirt and pulling her jumper back on while he went through similar motions with his own clothing. Her mood didn't last long as he caught her hand, giving it a light kiss, before moving for the door.

"Thanks for the memories, Granger," he whispered roguishly, dragging her out into the hallway and back to rejoin his mother.

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It wasn't much longer before the pair made their excuses and used the pre-arranged portkey to return to Hogwarts, Hermione promising Narcissa that she wouldn't be a stranger. The day had been wonderful, the dinner surprisingly bearable, and the events in Draco's room had been downright delectable. Hermione blushed as she thought back to just an hour or so earlier, sneaking a surreptitious look at the hands that had been so close to her chest.

They had made it back to their common room, and though at first she had entertained the thought of throwing herself at her roommate in an attempt to pick up where they'd left off, part of her was relieved when Blaise popped up not five minutes after they'd walked through the portrait hole.

"So, Princess, enjoy the big date?" Though by now she was used to his lack of filter, she still glanced anxiously at Draco to gauge his response. It had been difficult to convince herself to stop overthinking the outing, and she was dying of curiosity to see if Draco would correct his friend.

"She's still in one piece, isn't she?" Draco countered, flippantly. "I'm going to go change."

"Ah, yes, you survived meeting the mother," Blaise turned his attention back to Hermione, joining her on the couch and slinging a friendly arm around her shoulders. "And how was the indomitable Mrs. Malfoy?"

"It was surprisingly nice," Hermione answered sincerely, tucking her legs up underneath her and turning to better face Blaise. "I even convinced her to let me take a picture of her and Draco, remind me to send that to her with a thank you note once I get them developed. In fact," she continued, suddenly looking animated. "Let's get one of the three of us!"

"One of what, a picture? With that?" Blaise seemed unsurprisingly dubious of the small plastic device she was now waving around, but Hermione was undeterred.

"Draco, get your arse down here!"

"Language, Granger," Draco scolded, emerging from his room and coming down the stairs clad in his standard, yet stylish, dark green sweats and grey t-shirt, a Slytherin Quidditch jacket pulled over top and bottle of Firewhiskey in hand.

"We're taking a picture," she declared, beckoning him to join them on the couch, her stomach clenching as his warm body settled next to her, closer than was strictly necessary. "Hmmm, how should I do this?"

She spun the dial to prepare the disposable camera, then turned it around and held her arm out to try and get the three of them in the frame. She had no idea if her aim was right, but it was pretty clear that her arm would be in the way.

"Here, let me do it," Draco offered, snatching the camera from her grasp and angling it with his much longer arm. Blaise remained bemused, but smiled obligingly nonetheless as the brief flash went off.

"Perfect!" Hermione grinned brightly, feeling surprisingly lighthearted given the week that she'd had. "Movie, anyone?" It had been a fun, but exhausting, day, and she was ready to curl up in her pjs and relax for the rest of the evening.

"Are there any more James Bond ones?" Blaise called after her as she popped up the stairs to change.

 _Yep_ , she decided, reaching her room. _It had been a good day._


	24. Chapter 24

_Oh gosh, this is so much later in getting written that I had hoped, but here we are. A bit of a warning in advance, but this is a bit of a filler chapter leading up to what I hope will be a more interesting entry next time._

 _I didn't have a chance to reply to all my reviewers individually, but a big thank you to: TheIrritator, Myrddin Emris the Third, Muggle Struggles, Irmorena, 862, kimbclar, pgoodrichboggs, Sunset Whispers, Filmstar xXx, Lovely, leonix2009, , Sora Loves Rain, ZoeyOlivia, D J Killalitez, CTPP, Raycicle, rjardina, AlyssaWonderland, JoyfulSky67, MishaFox, iloveyou1234, and Guests!_

 _Enjoy!_

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Draco tapped his fingers absently against the wooden surface of the library table, hoping the minuscule release of energy would help to combat the headache he could feel beginning to build. The library was frustratingly crowded for a Friday evening, but with the winter holiday a little over a week away it was no surprise that students had to squeeze in some last minute assignments. He pinched the bridge of his nose roughly, sighing as he realized that the information he sought on advanced stasis spells was missing from the stack of books he'd gathered. He had two essays and an Arithmancy problem set to finish up today, not to mention finalizing the holiday training schedules for both the swim and Quidditch teams and ongoing Head duties. His work load had certainly been a bit on top of him these days.

He casually glanced around at the tables of mostly younger students, his gaze coming to rest on the pitcher of water carefully set up near the middle of the room and far away from any of the book cases. It had been at Hermione's insistence this year that the fastidious librarian, Madam Pince, had finally agreed to allow water into her precious library. He thought about giving his legs a brief stretch to go and grab a cup, though the desire for a heaping glass of Firewhiskey sounded much more appealing. He'd thought about sneaking in a flask to make the whole studying-process more bearable, but the thought of Hermione's disapproval had just barely brought him up short. He continued to stare mindlessly at the offending cups, only breaking his gaze upon feeling his table give a dull shake.

"Can you believe the display going on over there?" Pansy huffed, dumping her bag none too gently into the seat across from Draco. "The nerve of some of these _children_."

Scowling at the interruption, he turned his head briefly to take in the other students, immediately focusing in on the group of fifth year Slytherins three tables over. Both girls in the group were impeccably made up for the library—their uniforms magically altered to be shorter and tighter, hair coiffed, lips painted, eyelashes curled, and seductive smiles firmly in place. One was delicately applying nail polish, while the other was precariously perched on the table, holding court with the starry-eyed boys whose study materials were long forgotten. Draco rolled his eyes, he knew from personal experience that Pansy was a frequent perpetrator of such _displays_ , as she called it.

"If you're going to stay, you're going to study," he informed her curtly, not in the mood to entertain her particular antics.

"Calm down," she waved off his sour mood, pulling a neat stack of parchments out of her bag. "I need to finish up that lab write-up for Sprout, figured your boring arse could keep me focused. Plus, if it just so happens that you've already finished yours…"

She grinned triumphantly as Draco grumbled, unceremoniously shoving a pile of parchment at her. "You can have my notes but I'm not giving you my final paper." Copying had always been a pet-peeve of his, his friends knew by now what to expect.

The two Slytherins settled into an easy silence, and Draco was relieved to discover that he still had the ability to tune out Pansy's fidgeting tendencies. It was a defense mechanism he had developed in early childhood, and he found it somewhat comforting to settle back into the familiar ritual. Despite her surprisingly calming presence, a headache began thrumming up through his temples as his brain continued to taunt him with the thought of a cold glass of Firewhiskey. A nearly-silent groan escaped his lips, his quill diligently continuing to write out notes.

"Sounds like you could use a break," Pansy offered, sitting back to give him a perfunctory look.

"Pans—" Draco nearly growled, not bothering to look up at her. "We had a deal. Stay. Study. I have to get this done."

"Sheesh," she huffed. "You are negative amounts of fun these days. Did you even eat dinner?" The sound of his quill moving across parchment was the only response she received. Undeterred, she tried a different tactic. "I hear that those two Ravenclaw bints in fifth year finally found out they were dating the same bloke. Daphne says there's quite the show going on up in the tower."

Draco didn't even allow a grimace to break his waning concentration. He felt more than saw Pansy slump in defeat, and he experienced a fleeting sense of sadness that she was so reliant on the attention of others for her own sense of satisfaction.

"Fine," she finally acquiesced. "Can I at least borrow a quill? Mine's tip has gone all wonky and my writing's a mess." He pushed his bag across to her without looking, figuring that this might at least buy him a return to their previous silence. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side.

"What's this?" He looked up, only to see her smirking and holding a pair of delicate silver earrings in her manicured fingers. He scolded himself internally as he felt the flush creep up along the sides of his neck as her smirk only grew. "Not really your color, is it?"

"Just a practical joke from my mother," he replied cursorily, hoping to stave off further questions.

He mentally berated himself for making such a slip. As a Slytherin, he knew better than to leave personally incriminating objects within easy reach of his classmates, and he had HANDED her the bag himself. Clearly, the stress was making him weak.

Seeing the jewelry in her hand, he couldn't help but think back to his reaction upon receiving them by post a few days prior. It had been nearly two weeks since he had snuck Hermione off to France, and he remembered vividly the conversation they had had over what it meant to 'develop' the photographs they had taken. He had gone from confused to bemused by the small plastic box she'd purchased outside the Louvre, accepting that this was the way in which Muggles recorded events of importance. It took a bit of convincing, however, for him to accept that they could not simply perform a spell to extract the photographs, and he had gotten admittedly lost in her explanations of chemical baths, light exposure, and latent vs. visible imagery. He didn't protest when she declared that they would have to send the small box off to her parents, and he was admittedly impressed when a few days later his owl returned carrying a small bundle of photographs. They were shiny, rectangular, and strange. He had heard that Muggle photographs didn't move the way Wizarding ones did, but it was still odd to see himself frozen in time.

Hermione had been happy with the results, sharing images of their adventure with Blaise and blushing gently when he teased her over the images they'd snapped of her and Draco together. Draco, too, had felt a surge of pleasure at seeing the photos. Neither of them would be winning an award in photography any time soon, but he had been quick to steal away a copy of one they had asked a tourist to take by the Seine—her smiling brilliantly at the camera and he with his arm curled possessively around her waist. It was currently residing in the drawer of his desk, and he had taken to pulling it out during his late nights of studying, enjoying the feel of the glossy surface beneath his calloused fingertips.

Though he had been a bit uncertain at first, he allowed Hermione to convince him to send one of the pictures to his mother, the one she had taken of mother and son in front of the drawing room fireplace before they'd returned to school grounds. He wasn't sure what his mother's reaction would be, receiving the strangely-immobile, amateur photograph, but he had agreed to send it off anyway. As a family that prided itself on _things unspoken_ , he had not been surprised when he received her reply a few days later. There was no note, only the pair of expensive earrings that Pansy now held triumphantly in her hand.

"Your mother has great taste, even when she's _joking_." Pansy shifted the backing so that the simple design caught the light of the floating lanterns, causing them to sparkle prettily. "Can I have them, then?"

"No."

He refrained from saying anything more, not wanting to risk an overreaction. It was obvious to Draco that his mother intended he give the earrings to Hermione, just as it was obvious to him that she was offering her own version of approval. He had felt unsettled when he first opened the envelope, that sense of discomfort that came from being so obvious in front of his mother, and yet so dishonest when it came to himself. Why had he not just introduced Hermione as his girlfriend? The title had been floating around his brain for nearly two months now, and there had certainly been less flattering labels spewed out by the school's more vicious gossips. Even if he hadn't been able to admit to their relationship in front of his mother, surely he'd gotten to a point where he was at least able to admit it to himself? His brain jumped briefly to the stiff pureblood rituals on which he'd been raised, the ones that had gotten him nearly engaged to Astoria Greengrass and left him knowing, from a young age, that he would have no say over his future wife. The War had certainly been a blessing in that regard, but now it left him frustratingly nervous and unsure. He and Hermione were young. Just because they were _dating_ didn't mean they would get married, or that they'd someday have to navigate the complicated legacy of the Malfoy name…

Suddenly, he remembered that Hermione might not have a "someday".

It was as though a fist had closed around his heart at the same time that someone applied a stinging hex directly to his brain, and he clenched his eyes shut against the worried look of his housemate.

"Sorry, Draco." Pansy spoke softly, moving to set the earrings back in his bag. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," he managed hoarsely, opening his eyes but refraining from completely meeting her gaze. "I just have a lot on my plate, and I need to get this done."

He half-expected her to get up and leave, offended by his clipped tone and odd behavior. Instead, she turned back to her Herbology textbook and picked up the fresh quill she'd grabbed from his bag. He tried to ease back into his essay, willing his body to shake off the aftershocks of the cruel intrusion of reality. Eventually, the words in front of him started to make sense once more, and as he heard Pansy muttering under her breath about Professor Sprout's latest undignified hat, he took a deep breath and allowed his brain to fall back into a comforting state of academia and numbness.

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Hermione took a deep breath as she entered the library, holding the smell of parchment and ink deep within her lungs. Even with the hordes of students trying to cram for their upcoming mid-year exams, she still felt calm being surrounded by the books. There was hardly a table left free, but she managed to find an unoccupied nook tucked near the back of the room next to a poor boy who had apparently fallen asleep on his Care of Magical Creatures textbook. Thank goodness Hagrid had updated the required text since she'd been a third year; Hermione chuckled softly to think of the rude surprise _that_ would have been for the younger student.

She had seen Draco and Pansy when she walked through, both looking very studious. She'd briefly considered going to sit with them, but thought better of intruding out of fear of wrecking their concentration. She'd been increasingly in awe of Draco's work ethic—taking a course load to rival her own, while captaining two teams in addition to his Head duties. There were brief moments, of course, when she wished that perhaps he weren't so ambitious. They'd had scant time to spend together the past two weeks, and it was not uncommon for one or the other of them to be found passed out on the common room couch or at their desks. Her body was left thrumming from too-quick kisses, stolen moments of time that took her back to his room in France but left her short of breath and consistently frustrated.

She had begun spending the odd meal sitting with the Slytherins, affording her a bit of time with Draco but mostly she was helping Blaise run his lines for the Hogwarts' Winter Play. The production was set for the coming Wednesday, the last day before term ended and before most students would be heading home on the train for the holidays. He'd been coming to every one of her appointments with Madam Pomfrey, and by this point she felt as though she could recite the entire play, backwards and in her sleep. Draco had also been a steady presence at these sessions, though now that they were up to twice a week he found it hard to make it to them all. Both boys had been worried at the increase in frequency and it had taken a good amount of effort for her to convince them that it was nothing to worry about. She almost believed her own reassurances, but it was hard not to feel anxious as her body became increasingly tired after each session and she was left chilled for hours afterward.

She shook the thoughts away, knowing that it was no use getting worked up. She'd be going into St. Mungo's with her parents over the break, and until then she might as well stay optimistic. Or at least oblivious.

She pulled out her Defense Against the Dark Arts proposal, nearly complete except for the references she wanted to add. The Seventh years, in addition to rigorously preparing for their N.E.W.T.s, would be required to conduct an experiment next term to test the efficacy of a spell of their choice under different casting conditions. She enjoyed the chance to do more than simply memorize spells, but she was worried about the added workload.

It took her less time than she'd expected to add the finishing touches, and she glanced at the clock nervously. She had a meeting with Professor McGonagall at 8:00 pm, something she was both dreading and looking forward to being done with. She glanced around surreptitiously before pulling out a small stack of parchment, running her hands apprehensively along the edges as she again considered the wisdom of her intended actions. She hadn't even told Draco what she was planning to do, and she wondered for a moment what his opinion would be. Would he think that she was crazy? She wildly considered seeking him out, a last ditch effort to curb her impulses, but ultimately she stayed rooted to her chair, gently placing the papers back in her bag.

Hermione didn't consider herself to be keeping secrets from Draco necessarily, but she knew this wasn't the only thing she was keeping from him. Ever since he'd taken her to Paris, she'd felt strangely compelled to revisit the infamous HLLLL list. Draco and Blaise had both strategically avoided bringing it up to her for some weeks now, and in the absence of their badgering she found the space to begin tentatively making it her own. It wasn't that she'd even added much to it, but she found that it was often on her mind, particularly during her now-icy morning runs. She'd gotten such a rush of adrenaline the night before, writing out _Get a tattoo_ in her careful, neat script.

She still had 15 minutes to spare before her meeting but she gathered her things, intending to take the long way to McGonagall's office. The library and the office were on opposite sides of the first floor, and she figured she could walk slowly and look out for any students causing trouble. When she did eventually reach the solid brown door, she found herself hesitating with her fist poised to knock. She still didn't know if she was making the right choice, but it felt impossible to ignore what she was seeing any longer.

 _Knock, Knock_

"Come in," Hermione heard the familiar voice beckoning her inside and she entered quickly, closing the door softly behind her. "Ms. Granger, good to see you this evening. Can I offer you some tea?"

She nodded her head, accepting the steaming cup of chamomile with a grateful smile. "Thank you, professor." Her head of house was dressed in a familiar set of dark green robes, though her hat rested on a stand near her desk where Hermione could see stacks of parchment that looked suspiciously like an exam.

"Now, I assume this is about the Inter-School Extravaganza that you've been planning? It's my understanding that Mr. Longbottom has been meeting with Professors Hooch and Flitwick to arrange everything, but is there something I can help you with?"

"I had something else on my mind," Hermione admitted, taking a quick sip of tea and then attempting to hide her grimace when the hot liquid burned her tongue. She mentally chided herself, whispering a quick cooling charm.

"Oh, is this Head business then?" Professor McGonagall asked casually, though Hermione could tell that the older witch was now watching her closely. She was sure her nerves had given her away.

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione set down her tea and picked up her bag, rustling around until she was able to draw out the stack of parchment she'd been fiddling with earlier. "Actually, professor, I wanted to talk to you about Harry."

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Their meeting had only lasted another 30 minutes, but hours later Hermione still found herself restlessly wandering the castle. It had been a huge relief to unburden the knowledge she'd been carefully collecting and storing away, but she was anxious now that she'd finally admitted her suspicions out loud. McGonagall has reacted calmly but seriously, asking a number of questions after reading through the notations that Hermione had made over the past three weeks. Though she gave no indication as to whether or not she agreed with Hermione's conclusions, Hermione knew that her head of house would look into the matter thoroughly.

It was nearly midnight by the time she returned to the fourth floor, slipping quietly back into the Head common room. She was hoping that Draco would be done studying by now and that she'd finally be able to talk to him, but when she entered she immediately saw that he was asleep, passed out on the couch by the fire. As she approached she saw that Crookshanks was curled up against his side, which would have been endearing had the cat not been smooshing a pile of notes that Draco had clearly fallen asleep with. Hermione had to carefully wrestle the parchment out from underneath the lump of fur, ignoring the scathing look that she received.

"Settle down, Crooks," she warned him, returning his look with one of her own. She then turned to take in her roommate, torn between wanting to leave him to rest and her growing desire to confess. She sat on the edge of the couch as she tried to make up her mind, though she allowed herself the pleasure of reaching out a hand to trace a soft line down the planes of his cotton-covered chest.

"Oh," she gasped, startled when he moved to trap her hand against him. "I didn't mean to wake you," she murmured sheepishly, though she wasn't sure that was the truth.

"I'm glad you did," he rasped, his voice hoarse from sleep. He wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her back against his body as he turned to give her more space on the couch. "I was waiting up for you, must have dozed off."

She smiled as she watched him close his eyes once more, his body warm where it was curled around her. She considered just slipping off her shoes and curling up with him, but she knew that her racing thoughts would never let her sleep.

"Are you asleep again?" she teased him gently.

"Yes," he agreed, not bothering to open his eyes. "Care to join me?"

"Actually," she sighed, feeling the guilt sweep in. "I kind of need to tell you something."

That got his attention, and she moved to rescue Crookshanks as he shifted his entire body to sit up and face her, a concerned look marring his face. "What is it, Granger?"

 _Oh boy, here we go_ , she thought. _I hope he doesn't get mad_ …

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 _Bum bum bum..._

 _Several of you have written in with guesses on what is going on with Harry, but for everyone else here's your last chance to get your predictions in ;-)_

 _Thanks for reading!_


	25. Chapter 25

_School is finally out for the summer, and it has felt so good having the time to finally update this story again. As promised, this chapter tries to move forward the plot a bit more, but as a result there are a few fairly clunky transitions._

 _Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed (especially those who've submitted some truly excellent theories about Harry), and I hope you all enjoy!_

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By Monday morning, Harry was gone from school.

To be honest, his absence was subtle and Hermione may not have even noticed had she not been hyper-alert after her meeting with Professor McGonagall on Friday. He'd been missing from every meal and from their Monday morning double-Herbology class, but even so it wasn't until she got a note at lunch requesting her presence in the Headmaster's office that her suspicions were truly confirmed. She hurriedly folded the note and put it away, but a quick glance around the Gryffindor table showed that everyone was busy either eating or finishing up last minute assignments, nobody paying her any mind.

She looked over at the Slytherin table and saw that Draco was holding a similar looking piece of parchment. When he looked up and caught her gaze she gave him a tight smile and a small nod of acknowledgement. His face was its usual mask of stoicism, but she felt a pulse of warmth as she watched him gather up his bag and walk over to take the empty seat across from her.

"Longbottom," he nodded towards the boy sitting to Hermione's right.

"Malfoy," Neville responded, sparing a quick glance before returning to the book in front of him. Most of the professors were requiring work be turned in by the end of the day tomorrow, and Hermione knew that Neville was rushing to finish up his DADA proposal after spending most of the weekend concentrating on his work for the Brazilian Herbologists. Draco's piercing grey eyes held hers for a long moment, glancing along the table of Gryffindors before sliding his piece of paper over to her and casually picking up an apple from a nearby bowl of fruit.

"Do you think this has to do with your meeting on Friday?" he asked calmly. She scanned the parchment quickly, he was being asked to report to Professor Dumbledore's office later that afternoon, right after her own appointment it would seem.

She nodded. "I've been asked to show up as well, though it looks like they want to see us separately." She looked down briefly at her plate, contemplating whether or not she was in the mood to finish her half-eaten portion of winter salad.

"There's no need to worry, Granger," he assured her, dropping his voice and nudging her leg gently underneath the table. She sighed, knowing he was right and that it would be useless to get worked up.

"Have you considered using the wand core as the basis for your experiment?" Draco spoke up, tilting his head to look at the notes Neville was taking.

"Hmmmm?"

"For your experiment. You could pick a really basic spell, but vary the wand types." Neville looked intrigued, considering the advice. It was a simple approach, but Hermione knew that Neville wasn't looking to win any awards in DADA, mostly they were all just looking to get through their N.E.W.T.s.

She left the two of them to their discussion as she picked up a roll and pulled over the dish of butter. Bread was always better than salad in times of stress.

She mentally chided herself for being so nervous, she truly believed that she had done the right thing. Draco had been—well, she wasn't actually sure how to describe his reaction when she'd confessed to him on Friday night. He'd looked relieved, at first, and she realized belatedly that he must have thought she had an update on her health—whoops!

She'd told him about the strange behavior she'd observed over the past couple of weeks, the past couple of months really, and about how she'd started writing down all of her observations. She'd described her meeting with Professor McGonagall, where she had shared her suspicions and asked her head of house to look into the matter more thoroughly. A small part of her had wanted McGonagall to brush her off, scold her for letting her imagination get away from her. Of course, a larger part of her felt relief at being taken seriously.

She began absentmindedly collecting her things as she felt the rustle of students around her beginning to head off to afternoon classes. She still had Charms and History of Magic to get through before there'd be any opportunity to get some answers.

She stood up and adjusted her bag as Draco made his way around the table to her, his own bag and a brownie in hand. "Split this with me?" he asked, circling the treat enticingly under her nose. "If I eat the whole thing I'm sure to be too jittery to hear a lick of Flitwick's lecture."

She rolled her eyes, his sweet tooth was legendary around Hogwarts and she was sure that a single brownie wouldn't make a dent in his tolerance level. Even so, it was covered in caramel and had chunks of chocolate scattered throughout, and if bread was better than salad in times of anxiety…

"Thanks," she said, reaching over to tear off a chunk and take a bite, immediately pleased with her choice. "You coming, Neville?"

"Right, yeah," he muttered, still engrossed in the notes spread out before him. "Lemme just—" She cringed watching him haphazardly stuff his papers away in his bag and reached out to stop him, muttering a quick spell and tapping her wand against the mess to create a neat pile.

"Thanks," Neville mumbled, looking a bit sheepish but grateful nonetheless.

"You all coming?" Blaise called from the entrance way, books in hand. Hermione allowed Neville to walk in front of her as they made their way out of the hall, a warm feeling spreading through her chest when she felt Draco's hand rest briefly on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze in reassurance.

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It had been difficult to concentrate in her afternoon classes, and despite the flare of nerves Hermione was glad to finally be making her way to the Headmaster's office. The hidden spiral staircase appeared before her and within seconds she found herself knocking on the familiar wooden door.

"Come in."

"Professors," Hermione greeted as she made her way inside, not overly surprised to see that both McGonagall and Snape would also be present for this meeting.

"Please, take a seat, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore was already sitting behind his desk and she quickly made her way to go and sit before him, perching tensely on the edge of her chair. "I presume that you are aware as to why we've called you in today?"

She nodded, mentally assuring herself that she had done the right thing. "I expect this is in relation to the concerns I brought to Professor McGonagall a few days ago." Her voice came out strong and to the point.

"Indeed," Dumbledore inclined his head in a slight nod. "Minerva shared your concerns with me right away, and we determined that they merited further investigation. To cut to the chase, Ms. Granger, we established that, in line with your suspicions, Mr. Potter has indeed developed a fairly serious substance abuse dependence. He has been transferred to St. Mungo's where he will be receiving full time treatment and support."

She felt her chest constrict painfully as a rush of sadness pressed against her throat. _I was right, Harry has a problem with drugs._

"Of course," Dumbledore continued, "you can understand that we are not in the habit of sharing students' confidential medical information, but given the circumstances we felt it imperative that you be made aware of the situation. This is a very serious issue, and we need to determine whether any other students are involved, or at risk."

"Other students?" she frowned, not having thought of that possibility. _Had she been too focused on Harry to notice the warning signs in others?_

"Hermione," Professor McGonagall cut in, her straight lips and even stare conveying a dual sense of seriousness and kindness. "We do not mean to make any accusations, but everything you all went through with the War, at such a young age, we understand that difficult emotions naturally seek an outlet."

"Accusations," she blinked, surprised at the turn in the conversation. "You mean me?"

There was a small pause as the three professors shared a look and Hermione struggled to catch the meaning clearly passing between them before McGonagall's eyes focused back.

"No, we do not mean you. Not unless there is something you'd like to tell us." There wasn't even an inflection of a question in her words, and Hermione relaxed a bit in the knowledge that they did not truly suspect her. She was under such close watch by Madam Pomfrey and her healers, it would have been exceedingly difficult, not to mention dangerous, to try and hide a drug habit.

"Rather, we are wondering whether there is anything else that you know of, or have observed, that might indicate that another student or students are involved or at risk," Dumbledore questioned, softly.

She shook her head, quickly scanning her memories. "No, sir. Nothing comes to mind."

"Surely Potter wasn't acting alone?" Snape drawled acerbically, staring her down with hard eyes.

"I really couldn't say," Hermione replied, her defensiveness coloring her words and causing her spine to straighten. "We haven't been on the best terms this year, but I was worried for him and I'm glad that he's receiving help." She held the Potion Master's eyes as he continued to scrutinize her from his place standing near the Headmaster's desk.

"We understand, and of course we are immensely grateful that you went to Professor McGonagall with your concerns," Dumbledore agreed, offering a smile to break the tension. "As you might expect, we will be taking a proactive, precautionary approach to ensure the health and safety of all our students. We will be questioning and testing anyone deemed to be 'at risk' and establishing better protocols for mental health assessment and support throughout the student body."

Hermione felt herself nodding along automatically. She had long felt that Hogwarts needed better resources in that department, but hadn't known whether there was an equivalent in the Wizarding world to the Muggles' growing psychiatric practice.

"We also expect that as head students, you and Mr. Malfoy will strive to pay particular attention to any concerning behaviors, and be prepared to point students to the new resources that will be available."

"Absolutely," she agreed, already making a mental note to write-up guidelines on warning signs and procedures that she could share with the Prefects after running it by Madam Pomfrey. She felt her hands relax slightly from where they had been tightly gripping the material of her skirt. The prospect of having something tangible to work on was comforting.

"Mr. Malfoy will be joining us shortly so that we might also apprise him of the changes to protocol, but before he arrives we must speak briefly of Mr. Potter's privacy," Dumbledore continued, remaining even-toned. Hermione tensed with guilt, knowing she had already violated it.

"I'm very sorry, Professors. I would not dream of sharing this information beyond this room, but I did turn to Draco a few days ago to seek his council on this matter." She lowered her head a bit in shame, but was glad that her words had come out clearly, if a bit apologetically.

"We understand, Ms. Granger," McGonagall assured, glancing briefly over to Professor Snape. "We assumed this might be the case. Have you spoken to anyone else?"

"No," she responded immediately. "I will let Draco answer for himself, but I am fairly certain he kept my confidence." Her mind went to the last time she had shared a big secret with Draco, and how he had ended up confiding in Blaise. That had been different of course, and she was nearly positive that he hadn't spoken to the other Slytherin this time.

"We'll appreciate your discretion moving forward, though I believe we all know what tends to happen with information in this school," Dumbledore gave a wry but troubled grin. "We may not be able to protect him for long, but for now only the Heads of House, Madame Pomfrey, and the head students will know. I do expect that Mr. and Ms. Weasley will be made aware as well if they are not already, as Arthur and Molly are acting as Harry's guardians in this matter."

Hermione felt a sudden stab of sympathy streak through her body, imagining Harry going through something so challenging without the support system of his family. Of course, the Weasleys were family to him in all the ways that mattered, but she knew that at a time like this he'd be feeling the loss of his parents very acutely. A knock on the door interrupted any further musings.

"Mr. Malfoy, please come in," Dumbledore called out softly, using a curl of his fingers to open the door.

She turned her head to watch Draco cross the room, feeling somewhat as though backup had arrived. His face remained blank, but he gave her a reassuring look as he came to take the seat next to her.

"Thank you for joining us. Ms. Granger has informed us that you are somewhat aware of the reasons for this meeting, but we would like to discuss in further detail the results of Ms. Granger's concerns regarding Mr. Potter."

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Hermione was surprised at the relief she felt upon leaving Dumbledore's office. She had assumed that confirmation of Harry's drug abuse would leave her feeling panicked, sad, and helpless, but instead she felt mostly calm and relieved. She acknowledged that there was a bit of anger lurking along the sides of her mind, but she couldn't be sure yet whether that was anger at herself for not noticing anything sooner, or anger at Harry for not coming to her, trusting her to help him if he knew he was struggling.

She made it through the motions of eating dinner, her mind still swirling with the new information. Really, though, she had barely learned anything that she didn't already know, or deeply suspect. She understood the need to limit information, but now she was left to wonder so many things. _How long had Harry been using drugs? What kind? What sort of treatment was he receiving? When would he be back in school? How was he feeling?_

Draco had been asked to stay on after she was excused, and when she found him later on in their common room he recounted the questions they'd asked him and the brief battery of testing they'd conducted to verify that he was drug free. Hermione would never admit to the slight tingle of worry she felt waiting for him to confirm his status, and promptly gave herself a mental scolding. She didn't actually believe there was a possibility of him testing positive, but she could appreciate how they considered him to be an 'at risk' student, given his turbulent role in the War.

She thought about continuing to hash out the events of the afternoon, but when he suggested inviting Blaise over to watch a movie and finish their last minute assignments she eagerly agreed, content to watch both boys get pleasantly tipsy against the backdrop of yet another James Bond movie.

Most of the seventh years were exempt from end of semester exams given the N.E.W.T.s hanging over their heads, and with most assignments due Tuesday morning Hermione found the next two days to be rather cathartic. She kept expecting that she'd have to contend with an onslaught of complicated emotions to work through, but somehow they never came. Her initial feelings of calm and relief evolved into a sense of peace and she found that it was easier to go about her days, as though some great weight had lifted. Though certainly morbid, there was something so freeing in the mere possibility that her friendship with Harry had been destroyed by something more than a simple lie. She knew the situation was vastly more complex than simply saying that drug use caused Harry to act out of character, and frankly she didn't even know if he had been using before the big summer blowup. Regardless, it was so much easier to think of Harry as someone who needed help, rather than a shitty friend.

The trains taking students back to Kings Cross wouldn't be leaving until Thursday morning, so she spent most of Wednesday wrapping up Prefect planning and helping Neville with ISE before the Winter Play that evening. She didn't dare ask him about Harry, but was relieved to find that the rumor mill hadn't yet caught on to anything juicy. It seemed as though most of the Gryffindors had noticed that he was gone, but hadn't questioned the story that it was for official Ministry business. Seeing that even Neville seemed to be so distracted by the building excitement for the holidays, Hermione allowed herself to relax even further.

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Blaise's play had been a big success, though Hermione still wasn't used to the style of Wizarding productions. There were so many 'special effects', courtesy of magic, that it was hard to make the connection back to the occasional Muggle plays her parents had taken her to as a child. By this point she'd seen quite a few school productions, but she still made a note to introduce Blaise to some of the simple Shakespearean monologues that she had grown up on in case the Drama Club had any interest in trying something new. _They'd probably consider it rustic_ , she mused.

She'd hung around for a bit to congratulate Blaise and a few of the other actors she was friendly with, but when the Slytherins started moving off to the dungeons for the obligatory end of semester/after party, she politely declined. It was still early, but even though the Prefects were mostly getting the night off from patrolling she felt inclined to at least put in a quick, obligatory round before returning to her rooms and packing. Secretly, she hoped she might get some time alone to spend with Draco and was excited when he pulled her aside, promising he wouldn't be staying long at the party and leaving a subtle, searing kiss along the curve of her neck.

Her clothing was mostly organized but not packed, so she put on a little music and danced around while she gathered up clothing and cleaned. Crookshanks wandered in to supervise, apparently concerned that she would somehow forget his food and toys. The process should have been quick, but after wandering too close to her bookshelf she became engrossed in deciding which books to take home, and before she knew it an hour had passed and she had an unreasonable stack two feet high.

Noting the time, she decided to head back to the common room in the hope that Draco had returned. She had been trying not to think about how much she would miss having him around for the two week break, but with their departure fast approaching it was harder to ignore.

She softly padded down the stairs, coming up short when she spotted him lying across the couch, apparently fast asleep. She rolled her eyes, this had become a frustratingly common occurrence between the two of them, and she sarcastically wondered whether there wasn't some curse placed on the couch that caused him to pass out any time he got within three feet.

She paused, considering her options, and then quickly retreated back the way she'd come to fetch her parchment pad and pencils. There hadn't been much time to draw the past couple of weeks, and she figured that she would just keep herself entertained until he eventually woke up.

She walked softly around the couch, careful not to make too much noise, and settled in against the opposite cushions. He'd managed to lay out in a semi-comfortable looking position, one arm sprawled against his stomach and the other tucked down by his half-bent leg. His head was tilted back against a pillow, his face angled towards the warm fire and features highlighted by the dancing light. She carefully drew her own legs up, tucking her feet between his legs and the couch so that she could prop her paper against her thighs.

It wasn't what she'd necessarily had in mind for the evening, but she wouldn't deny that it was nice to have a chance to study him, unguarded. His lips were slightly parted, as if in invitation, and she briefly considered starting her sketch there, building the man out around one of her favorite features. Her artistic discipline ultimately held, and her hand began moving in long strokes against the page, marking the outline of his shape. He was still in his school clothes, his robe abandoned against the back of the couch. His Slytherin tie remained in place, and as she carefully traced it's shape she had a flashback to the last time she had sketched that tie, his hands provocatively tugging it out of place.

She sucked in a breath to steady her hands. It was still one of her favorite drawings, tucked carefully away in her rooms.

They'd made an agreement that night, that he would serve as her model in exchange for teaching him about Muggle culture. Though they'd had many conversations since then about her Muggle upbringing, she hadn't yet taken much advantage of his end of the bargain. Her mind began to race as her hand continued moving across the page, imagining several poses that made her blood race as a blush spread across her cheeks.

Hermione jumped, surprised when one of his arms came up to scratch at his hair, his body shifting in a small stretch.

"Wait, don't move," she urged, quickly sticking out a foot to rest against his stomach and pin him in place.

"Granger?" he blinked sleepily, his eyes coming to focus on her in a confused scrunch.

"Hi," she replied, grinning a bit sheepishly and holding her pad of parchment up in explanation. "I'm only halfway done with my sketch."

"Hhmmmphff," she saw the whoosh of air escape his chest in a sigh, his mouth curling into a bemused smirk as settled back begrudgingly. "Is this right?"

She studied his position, glancing back and forth at her parchment. "Rest your hand flat there, and move it down. Your head's not quite right, can you tilt it back a bit more?"

"This isn't the most comfortable," he grumbled, rolling his neck around a bit until he found the right spot on the pillow.

"You're the one who fell asleep like that. Now hush, and close your eyes," she reprimanded him, teasing.

Hermione returned to her drawing, working on capturing the hard angles of his torso and joining it to the curve of his neck. "How was the party?"

"I think you've corrupted me," he replied, eyes remaining shut. "There was too much _rule breaking_ , I had to leave before I spoiled everyone's fun."

"Ha ha," she muttered, sarcastically. They both knew that he was much looser with the rules than she was, years of being a Prefect had left little dent. "I did a round before coming up here, things were so crazy I decided to leave it and finish my packing instead."

"Things have pretty much died down now. I think everyone's locked away in the common rooms, the Prefects can deal with them now."

"Lucky them," Hermione chuckled, continuing to fill in some lines.

"Bring me one of those Christmas cookies, won't you?" he asked, opening a single eye to peer imploringly at her. She shook her head, not bothering to look up. "Stop moving, you'll ruin my sketch."

"How about some firewhiskey?"

"No."

"What about tea? Surely you wouldn't deprive me of some good, English tea on a cold night like this?" he whined, lifting his head up to hit her with the full force of his pout.

She managed to lift a single eyebrow, clearly conveying that he didn't have a chance at persuading her.

"Fine," he sighed, letting his head fall back once again but lifting both hands up to the knot on his tie. "You asked for it, time to bring out the big guns."

"What are you doing?" she frowned, quickly erasing the line she'd been working on as he moved out of place.

"Just upping the stakes a bit," he smirked back at her, eyes open and fixated on her own. Her breath caught a bit as she watched his fingers slowly pull off his tie, leaving it to drop on the floor before they returned to begin working one by one on the buttons of his shirt. She quickly looked back at her drawing, trying to hide her reaction from him. "Interested, Granger?"

"I'm an artist, Draco," she replied, desperately attempting to keep her voice even. "You're just giving me more to work with."

He let out a defeated growl, the seductive look falling from his face and his hands slipped away from his now half-open shirt. "Fine," he groused. "You can have 30 more minutes, but you have to promise to wake me up if I fall asleep again." He turned his head back to its original position and closed his eyes, not bothering to fix his shirt.

Hermione let out a soft laugh, pleased that she had won that particular battle. Though as she looked up, it was hard to remember what exactly she'd been trying to win. She could see a large swath of his chest peeking out of his shirt, his pale skin turned golden by the flickering fire. _Was she really about to turn down such an inviting opportunity?_

She could feel the blood pounding in her heart, and with sweaty palms she carefully set aside her drawing materials, leaving them to rest on the floor. She shifted to her knees on the couch, her eyes sweeping over his form as she tried to decide what the best move would be. _Don't over think it, Hermione_ , she urged herself, deciding to stand so that she could get closer to his face.

Draco opened his eyes, confused as he felt her walk over. He opened his mouth, a question forming on his lips, but it was lost as she gracefully swung a leg over his hips, straddling him and pressing her lips sweetly to his own.

"Mmmmmhhhhhhh," he groaned, his hands instantly finding her hips and settling her more firmly against his stomach, his response eager. Her hands immediately went to his exposed chest, pressing against his warm skin as she placed a few, teasing kisses against his mouth. "I thought you were an artist, Granger?" he grinned up at her, eyes dark.

"Shut up, Malfoy," she countered, biting at his lower lip before sitting up slightly. "And…take it off."

He raised his eyebrows, surprised at her daring request but happy to comply. He shifted her back against his legs, sitting up as he resumed his slow process of unbuttoning. She reached out when he reached the bottom, tentatively pushing the sides of his shirt off his arms to expose his full torso. He tossed the shirt over the side of the couch, leaning back to allow her an unobstructed view, his eyes dark. She bit her lip, unsure what to do with the free reign that he was so obviously giving her.

"I like these," she admitted, reaching a hand down to brush gently against his well-defined abs and sweeping up towards his pectorals.

"Show me," he commanded, grabbing her arms and tugging her back down against his chest.

She gradually grew bolder, not used to having so much control over their kisses. Her hands moved to his hair, gripping tightly as she tilted his head, exposing his neck to her curious tongue. She felt encouraged by the small, gasping sounds he was making, and she dug her teeth in lightly before moving up to kiss the spot right beneath his left ear.

"Ahhhhhh," he groaned, tipping his head back to give her further access. She nearly startled at the feeling of his hands under her skirt, his palms gripping the backs of her thighs as he ran them teasingly up to the curve of her behind. It wasn't the first time that he'd had his hands there, but something about the skin on skin contact was driving her wild and she wiggled her hips against him as she brought her mouth back to his for a searing kiss. She was starting to become unbearably hot, and as she felt his finger toying with the edge of her panties she sat up and gripped the bottom of her t-shirt.

As she began to lift up the thin cotton garment his hand shot out, forcing her to pause. "Wait, Hermione, are you sure?" She wanted to laugh, she must really have flustered him if he'd resorted to using her first name. Simply nodding, she continued to tug upwards, grateful when his hands came up to help free her unruly curls.

"Wow." She couldn't quite meet his eyes, her confidence disappearing in time with her shirt. She looked down instead, almost scared to find out which bra she had on and scolding herself for not thinking of that before she'd decided to take her top off. It was a dark blue one, simple but with a small trim of lace along the edges of the cup. It would do. "You're beautiful, Hermione," Draco breathed, reaching out hand to trace a reassuring circle against the skin of her stomach.

She looked up and became instantly caught in his heated gaze, delighted when he quickly crashed his mouth back to hers. Their kiss danced recklessly on the line between frantic and controlled, and with a squeal she felt her world spin as he smoothly switched their positions on the couch. He quickly pinned her arms, a favorite of his she was coming to realize, and she couldn't help but moan as he began attacking her neck with hungry kisses, moving down towards her collarbone and below. She was caged in by his weight on top of her but still she managed to arch her back and cry out at the feeling of his tongue circling around the tops of her breasts. She was relieved when he finally freed her arms, her breathing speeding up as she felt his hands move down to carefully cup first one breast, then the other. It felt strange but oh so good, and she couldn't help the tiny keening noise she made when his thumb brushed purposefully against her nipple through the thin material of her bra.

Hermione wasn't sure how long they continued on like that, their movements steadily becoming bolder as she rocked herself wantonly against his leg pressed between her own, instinctively seeking to relieve her growing need. It wasn't until she felt his answering grind against her stomach that she reluctantly pulled away, suddenly realizing how easy it would be to lose complete control over the situation.

"Draco," she murmured, trying to concentrate as he continued to suck at her neck. "we should probably stop."

"We should," he agreed, meeting her gaze briefly before switching to the other side of her neck. "This is me, stopping."

"Come on," she laughed breathlessly, tugging at his hair. "It's late."

He sighed, reluctantly releasing her and pushing back on his heels to give her some space. "So it is."

"And you have packing to do tomorrow," she reminded him, knowing he hadn't gotten around to that yet.

"I'll buy new clothes," he teased, helping her sit up as he ignored her glare.

She felt suddenly cold without the heat of his body pressed against hers, not to mention self-conscious, and she quickly brought her arms up to cross over her chest. Chuckling, he leaned forward, pressing a small, lingering kiss against her now swollen lips as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

"Come on," he whispered, urging her to stand. He grabbed both their wands as he led them up the short staircase, but when she tried to turn away at the landing he held fast to her wrist. "You know, it _is_ the last night of the semester."

Hermione looked at him questioningly, not entirely sure where he was going with this. "And your point is, exactly…?"

"Stay with me?" he asked, softly. She was torn. He looked so vulnerable in that moment, and she didn't _really_ want to go back to her room alone. But then again, she was still in just her bra and skirt, her blood still coursing hotly through her veins as a reminder of their recent activities.

"I don't know," she hedged, looking uncertain. "Is that really the best idea right now?"

"I'll be on my best behavior, I promise," he responded, his face scrunched in a mock pout.

"That's not really much of a promise, I've _seen_ your best behavior, it isn't much," she joked even as she relented to the small tug he gave to her hand.

She'd seen glimpses of his room before, but never outright been in. It was, no surprise, painted green with an expensive grey rug matching the dark floor and wooden furnishings. She did a quick scan as she walked in, noting a few Quidditch posters, many books, and only a few clothes strewn about the floor.

"Arms up!" he instructed, and she gratefully complied as he tugged a large t-shirt down over head. She didn't even notice that it was an old Slytherin Quidditch jersey, being too distracted by the feel of his fingers deftly unclasping her bra underneath the shirt and running the straps down her arms. She shivered as he ran his fingers soothingly against her spine, but still tensed as she felt the tug of the zipper on her skirt as the material pooled against her feet.

She moved on shaky limbs, trying to come off as sophisticated instead of awkward as she gathered up her discarded clothing. Draco had moved off to a chest of drawers, and she quickly looked away as he dropped his pants, surprised at the dark red color of his briefs. She didn't know what to do with her clothes, finally deciding to just set them on his desk, and by the time she'd turned back around he was wearing his standard green sweatpants.

"I hope you know," he whispered lowly, coming to stand behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist, "I don't normally wear clothes to bed."

"Funny, neither do I," she teased. It was a lie, but a worthwhile one judging by the hungry look on his face. She pulled away to move towards his bed, coming to a halt when she saw what was on the end of it.

"You traitor!" She hissed, spinning back around and jabbing a finger against his chest. "How long have you been plotting against me?" Crookshanks was happily curled up in what looked to be a top of the line cat bed, an item that had clearly already seen some use.

Draco simply smirked, using the opportunity to guide a protesting Hermione around towards the side of the bed. "Don't be jealous, Granger. I'm willing to share custody."

She tried to remain huffy, but it was difficult to do when he was pushing her back on the bed, his lips once again hovering over hers. "I'm sorry," he breathed out, placing a tender kiss against her mouth before pulling back barely an inch. "I'll buy you a new one."

"A new bed?" she asked, confused.

"A new cat." She growled, jabbing her hands against his ribs where she knew he was the most ticklish. They ended up in a mess of limbs and pillows, breathing hard and each one calling for a truce.

Successfully distracted from the realization that she was now lying in bed with a man, Hermione allowed herself to settle in against the still laughing Head Boy. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to rest more fully against his chest and tucking her head in against his shoulder. She turned her face subtly into his skin, enjoying his masculine scent and the surprising smell of clean laundry coming off his sheets. "I'm going to miss you," she admitted sadly, the words making her realize just how true it was.

"I'll come visit you," he offered, sounding sincere.

"Really?" She raised her head up so she could see his face. "You'll really come visit me in my Muggle home, with my Muggle parents?"

"Well, how else are they going to meet your Wizard boyfriend?" he threw out, casually.

Hermione's eyes went wide and she quickly pushed up onto her forearms so she could see him more clearly. "What?"

She hadn't wanted to bring it up again, secretly wondering whether he wanted anything more than a regular snog from her. The only other time they'd come close to talking about their relationship was after her surprise swimming lesson, where they'd both essentially agreed not to label anything. It was a decision she had understood, but left her emotionally vulnerable nonetheless.

"Is that okay?" he questioned, looking suddenly uncertain.

"For you to be my boyfriend?" she clarified, hoping to Merlin that she hadn't misunderstood him.

"And for you to be my girlfriend," he replied, softly and hopefully.

"Yes," she agreed simply, snuggling back against his shoulder to hide the enormous grin on her face. "But just so you know, it's customary in Muggle culture to perform a courting dance when being introduced to your girlfriend's parents for the first time."

"Seriously?" he sounded equal parts unsure and horrified.

"Seriously, Malfoy."


	26. Chapter 26

_Hello all you lovely readers! I'm so excited to say that this story has now hit 1000+ followers, and I am feeling so humbled and grateful to you all for your continued interest and support in this story!_

 _I moved to a new city for the summer which can always be a daunting transition, so it's been great to spend some time back with something that is so familiar. Apologies for not updating in a month! If you've left a review for the latest chapter, I will be responding soon, I promise! I really, truly appreciate everyone who has taken the time to share their thoughts/encouragements/suggestions, and I love hearing from readers just discovering this story as well as those who've been so faithfully following along for almost two years now. Yikes, that's a long time!_

 _In any event, here's #26 :-)_

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The trip home passed by in a blur. The sounds of Christmas carols being sung throughout the train provided a nice backdrop for Hermione's reading, and she'd even agreed to a small tournament of Exploding Snap which she promptly lost in the first round, much to Blaise's delight. Technically, most of the seventh years were capable of apparating home, but Hermione and Draco had to fulfill their Head duties by monitoring the younger students, and apparating over long distances could be tricky businesses, especially for the newly licensed.

Hermione didn't mind the extra hours on the train. It was a comforting routine, and she loved the tradition of being picked up from King's Cross by her parents and taken out to lunch at the Blue Bird café in London. Her parents looked more at ease waiting for her than they had in her earlier years at Hogwarts, appearing less outwardly thrown by the strange dress and customs of the magical community. Hermione practically ran over to them, her trunk miniaturized and Crookshanks bouncing unhappily against her hip. She had said goodbye to Draco on the train, knowing that he had almost no time to catch his portkey off to France, but Blaise had been eager to meet her parents. He managed to charm them in two minutes flat, much to Hermione's amusement. Still, she decided to hurry them out of the station just in case he decided to indulge his hobby of embarrassing her, leaving him with a wave and a promise to write.

Her house looked much the same as it always did, some tasteful holiday lights strung along the roof and trees, a large evergreen wreath proudly affixed to the front door.

"The Wrights really outdid themselves this year," her dad commented, gesturing next door as he helped her carry her re-sized trunk in from the car. "I wanted to give them a run for their money, but your mum thought that would be tacky."

Hermione silently agreed, looking over at the massive amounts of string lights and wire-framed, larger-than-life Christmas characters. Even unplugged in the daylight in looked like overkill, and she secretly wondered whether a small, _accidental_ spell that evening would be entirely out of the question to help tone down the effusive cheer.

After letting Crookshanks loose on the house she quickly set about unpacking. There was still a week until Christmas and she was eager to make the most of being home with her family. She still had a bit of gift shopping to do, but otherwise planned to read, bake, and draw to her heart's content. She carefully pulled her drawing notebook out of her bag, surreptitiously extracting the half-finished sketch she'd made of Draco the night before. Her memory was good enough that she'd probably be able to add in the missing details, but for now she set it aside, thrilled by the memento of their _official_ relationship finally coming to be.

Shaking her head to clear away the memory of waking up in his arms earlier that day, she set about pulling out some of her favorite drawings from the semester and making room on her crowded bedroom wall. Years ago she'd started putting up a few drawings here and there, and now she had an entire wall dedicated to her art. Her skill had obviously evolved overtime, but she loved some of her earlier work with its heavy lines and shaky curves, a few portraits where you could just _barely_ make out who it was she'd been attempting to draw. Now the wall shined out at her as a testament to the past ten years. Her eyes lingered briefly on an early sketch of Harry, his scar peeking a tad unrealistically from his messy hair.

"Hermione?" Her mum called up the stairs. "I'm making Shepard's Pie for dinner tonight, I'm about to head to the store to pick some things up. Anything you wanted me to grab for you?"

"One second, mum!" she called back, managing to tear her eyes away and moving to find her Muggle wallet amongst a pile of belongings on her bed. "I need practice driving, I'll come with you!"

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Four days out from Christmas, and Hermione begrudgingly found herself perched along the edge of a lumpy examination table at St. Mungo's, her elbows digging into her thighs as she held her head between her legs and took in a deep breath.

"Can we get her some water?" her mum piped up, running an anxious hand along Hermione's back in an attempt at comfort. She felt a bead of sweat slide from her forehead down along the curve of her cheek and fall to the floor at the same time that she heard the mediwitch apologetically refuse.

"I'm okay," she mumbled weakly, trying to ignore the threatening roiling of her stomach as she straightened slightly. "Do I have to do that again?"

"I'm afraid so, Hermione," Healer Wenbrooke replied, tightening her lips in an understanding grimace as she looked up from the chart she'd been scribbling on. "I know your body wants to fight it, but I'd like you to try really hard and not throw-up this time, yeah?"

Hermione simply nodded, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her face from betraying her displeasure. Her mouth was coated in a mixture of stomach bile and the new potion they wanted her to take, which just minutes earlier an assistant had had to vanish from the floor as Hermione succumbed to a violent bout of vomiting. She caught her dad's eyes from across the room, feeling guilt flood her at his tense stance and his arms crossed sharply against his chest. She looked away as her teeth drew a bit of blood, finding the coppery taste to be ironically pleasant under the circumstances.

"I'm ready to try again," she declared, steeling her resolve and reaching out for the refilled glass.

It was better this way, she reminded herself as she attempted to once again force down the vile-tasting liquid. Better to visit the hospital before the holiday so that they could just get it out of the way and not have the visit looming over them during the entire break. Ideally, there would have been no need to visit St. Mungo's in the first place, but Hermione knew her healing team had been planning a thorough examination for months. Madame Pomfrey was fine for administering medication and keeping an eye on her symptoms, but she wasn't a cancer specialist and Healer Wenbrooke wanted to take advantage of Hermione's time at home to run more invasive tests as well as, apparently, administer several more aggressive treatment regimens. Her mother had nearly insisted that they wait until after Christmas to go in, but Hermione was adamant that they get it out of the way as soon as possible. In the back of her mind, she knew that her mum wanted to shield the family against bad news, allowing them to celebrate Christmas without having to contend with whatever news the healers might have. The mere possibility of admitting to this fear proved too painful for the Grangers, and Hermione was grateful when her dad took her side even as she lost a valiant battle with her tears the night before.

They'd been at St. Mungo's for two hours already, and from the sound of things it would be several hours more before she'd be able to escape. No one had been able to give her any definitive updates, but by the looks on the healers' faces there wasn't much of a chance of hearing that her cancer had magically disappeared. She could still feel incision marks from where they'd taken blood earlier (no healing charms while running tests) so she tried to concentrate on the lingering pain instead of the choking sensation she felt any time she tried to swallow the potion. She had been forced to change into a hospital gown upon arrival, and though it wasn't as scratchy as it looked it still felt unpleasant against her clammy skin. Not to mention the outright awkwardness of being in a room full of people without any underwear on! Why they needed to poke and prod at her _there_ Hermione didn't know, but she was beyond arguing at this stage and was simply grateful that they had asked her parents to step out of the room for that part.

Glass fully drunk, she allowed her mother and one of the mediwitches help her to lay back on the exam table, knowing they hoped to avoid a repeat of last time. She squeezed her eyes shut and in her head focused on listing out all the great Goblin Wars in reverse-chronological order, trying to ignore the rather handsome healer now manipulating his wand around her midsection.

It felt like the potion was going to stay down this time, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't yet through the worst of it. Healer Wenbrooke had explained that they wanted to try a more intensive version of Hermione's twice-weekly treatments with Madame Pomfrey. She knew that after the potion had a chance to spread throughout her blood stream, they would be applying a strong charge to certain areas of her body to amplify the effects of the potion and concentrate them in infected or vulnerable organs. The look on Wenbrooke's face when she had admitted that Hermione "might feel a slight discomfort" was enough to convince her that it would, in fact, be a fairly painful ordeal.

"Mrs. Granger, we're going to have to ask you to let go of Hermione's hand now. Sorry." Hermione hadn't really been aware of the comforting gesture until she felt its loss, and she tensed her body in anticipation of what was coming next.

"Okay, just going to slip a pillow under your head here, Hermione," she heard Healer Wenbrooke say cheerfully, calmingly, from up near her head. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," she rasped out, still not opening her eyes. That was, apparently, her line of the day.

"Any tingling? Burning? Loss of feeling anywhere?"

"M-maybe my lips, they're a bit numb," she admitted, pressing them together lightly as if in confirmation of their altered state. "And my throat feels raw."

"Okay, nothing to worry about. We can get you some water soon but you'll have to push through a bit longer, that alright?" Hermione nodded, knowing she didn't actually have a choice as to whether it was alright or not.

"We're going to apply the charges now, Hermione. We're going to start on your left side, just below your ribs, and we'll be monitoring your response and the response of the potion." Her heart began to race and she clenched her hands as she felt someone placing a heavy pad at a diagonal angle across her stomach.

"Just the one shock, then it's over?" she bravely asked, frustrated to hear her voice coming out several octaves higher than normal. She risked opening her eyes but immediately shut them again. There were too many healers standing around her and their lime green robes made her want to throw up again.

"It will be more than one," Healer Wenbrooke replied softly. "We won't know how many until we see how you're responding, but it might be upwards of ten or fifteen. You can do this, Hermione." She felt a tear slip past her sealed eyelid.

It hurt. No more and no less than she had been expecting, but the pain was sharp and seemed to echo throughout her body until there was a dull throb from the bottom of her feet to the very top of her head.

She could tell the healers were speaking to one another, but the adrenaline coursing throughout her body prevented her from making sense of the noise.

"Hey, Hermione, you okay?" Healer Wenbrooke again, tapping her gently on the arm until she pried her eyes open, blinking blearily to clear the tears gathered in her eyes.

"Y-yes. I'm okay." How many more times would she be saying that before she could go home? The older mediwitch held her gaze searchingly, eventually nodding in acceptance of her answer.

"We're going to continue now. We'll be applying more shocks to the same area, up near your sternum, and we want to get down by your hip as well. Say something if you need us to stop or if the pain gets too intense, otherwise we'll try to get through this as quickly as possible."

Hermione had to appreciate the witch's efficiency, though as she closed her eyes again she couldn't help the heady longing that ballooned in her chest, fervently wishing that her mother's hand would return to her own.

All in all it took another forty five minutes before Hermione was able to relax, temporarily released from the examination room with promises that there would be no more invasive procedures that day. Her parents were nipping down to the cafeteria to pick up some lunch, but as she was only allowed to have room-temperature water for the time being she'd decided to stretch her legs a bit while the "super-potion" made its way through her body.

Her entire left side felt as though it had fallen asleep before being rudely awakened. Almost all of the charges had been applied to that side, though the ones to her sternum seemed to have radiated throughout the entire cavity of her upper chest. She felt pathetic limping along in her white, shapeless hospital gown, her hair frizzing madly from the combination of sweat and friction from the exam table. She made a mental note to ask her mum to braid it for her when she got back, knowing it would be helpless to attempt such a feat herself when she could barely lift her left arm a few inches from her hip. Her healers assured her that moving around would help, but she wasn't sure her ego agreed as she averted her gaze from a curious family passing by.

St. Mungo's didn't look that big from the outside, but the beauty of magic meant that one's eyes couldn't be trusted. Hermione hadn't wandered that far from the Long-Term Ailments ward, but already she'd passed five intersecting hallways leading off to other departments. She knew from prior experience that emergencies were typically handled on the lower floors, while the higher you went the less time-sensitive treatments tended to be. She'd been comforted a ways back upon passing the Maternity ward, less so upon seeing a sign pointing down a different hallway directing visitors to the Burn ward.

She knew, somewhere in here, were Neville's parents. He didn't like to talk about it much, but she knew that his parents were permanent residents of the Memory Loss and Long-Term Care unit. She considered for a moment whether he might be here, visiting them on his school break, but then remembered him mentioning a magical cruise that he and his Gran were taking to America. It was just as well, she didn't really fancy visiting with anyone in the state she was in.

Just as it occurred to her that she ought to turn around and head back to her room she caught sight of a calming blue sign announcing her arrival at the Addiction Treatment and Care Center.

She shuffled to a jerky halt, a tingle of renewed feeling dashing up her leg and settling with an ache in her hip. _Harry was here_.

Actually, she wasn't really _sure_ that he was literally, physically in this wing. Perhaps there was a different department where they were treating him, or maybe he'd already been discharged, sent home or to another treatment center. Her lack of knowledge on the subject had been plaguing her for days, half-written letters littering her trash can from her failed, if earnest, attempts to reach out to her former best friend. She started to move towards the reception desk before pulling up short once again.

Not only was she wearing no underwear and clearly a patient of the hospital, but she also doubted they would tell her if he was there. At that thought she felt a sudden rush of desperation and sense of protection seize her, hoping that wherever he was the staff was going above and beyond to ensure his privacy. Her mind flashed to all of the times over the years when his life had been twisted and plastered all over the papers. She glanced around in a panic, suddenly feeling as though her mere presence in this hallway might bring down the full force of the blood-thirsty media.

She pivoted and began hobbling back the way she came, trying to walk quickly despite the stiffness of her muscles. She'd been more than a little lax with her own privacy in the last 30 minutes, wandering around in the public hallway. She knew all of the staff were under strict NDAs, but now she worried about the family she had seen just a few minutes earlier.

It took her about ten minutes to make it back to her ward and she shot the receptionists a polite, if strained, smile before seeking out the safety of her room. Her parents were still notably absent so she settled for sipping on some water while she willed her paranoia back into submission. Several of the healers were in the room tending to what looked suspiciously like an active potion cauldron, but Hermione decided that for now ignorance would be bliss. She thought about rifling through her bag for a book, but for once the thought of reading held no appeal.

"You're back," Hermione nearly startled as Healer Wenbrooke strode into the room, a sandwich in one hand and a stack of parchments in the other. "How's that left side feeling?"

"A bit better," she replied, tentatively placing a hand against her ribs as if to test the validity of her claim.

"Hop up, let me take a look." Hermione walked back over to the exam table, grateful for the magic that automatically lowered the device so she didn't have to scramble up. "Any trouble breathing?"

She shook her head. "Everything's just a bit tender and, well, kind of tingly."

"I'm going to lay you back, do a little check. Do you mind if I use my hands to test our your muscle response?"

"That's fine," Hermione agreed, though found herself crying out not 30 seconds later, "Ouch!"

"Sorry about that," Wenbrooke gave her an apologetic smile before helping her to sit up once again. "Your body definitely took the brunt of a lot of magic, it might take a bit longer for your muscles to relax again. I'll go ahead and show you some techniques to massage out the soreness in case anything's still bothering you this evening."

She watched as the older witch demonstrated a few simple techniques, gritting her teeth against a few sharp bursts of pain.

"How's school going?"

"Pretty well, I guess," Hermione shrugged. "N.E.W.T. preparation is a nightmare, but my Head Girl duties have been mostly fun."

"I heard you have a boyfriend?" Wenbrooke was giving her a sly, knowing grin and Hermione couldn't help but blush.

"I—who told you that?" She had only just informed her mother the night before, and that was only because Draco was due to visit tomorrow. Her stomach leaped in anticipation at the reminder, but she still couldn't imagine that her mum was gossiping about her.

"Poppy and I were in Healer-training together, she might have let slip that a certain someone had been hanging around the hospital wing quite a bit this semester…"

"It's new," she admitted softly, not quite meeting the healer's eyes as she fiddled with the hem of her gown. Though she was a private person by nature, there was something so thrilling about being able to admit to _officially_ being in a relationship.

"That young Mr. Malfoy is quite handsome, though he could stand to smile a bit more in those _Profit_ pictures. What is he doing for the break?" Wenbrooke asked, ending her demonstration and moving a few steps away so she could properly see her young patient's face.

"He's with his mum over in France, but he's supposed to stop by for a visit tomorrow as long as the portkey comes through."

" _Muffliato_." Hermione scrunched her brows, confused as to why Wenbrooke had just cast a spell to mask their conversation. "Are you and Mister Malfoy sexually active?"

 _Well that certainly took a turn_ , Hermione thought, embarrassment painting her cheeks. Hadn't she been mentally praising the healer's efficiency just an hour earlier?

"We're, ummmm, we're not really _there_ yet," she tried to fight through the awkwardness.

"I don't want to embarrass you, dear," Wenbrooke assured her with a professional yet reassuring smile. "I only ask because with the treatments we're giving you, the standard pregnancy-prevention charm won't be effective and the last thing I'm sure you want right now is anything _unplanned_."

Hermione gulped. She hadn't even _thought_ about that.

"Well. How about I just write you a prescription for a special potion we have, that way you'll be covered _just in case_. You can pick it up at the pharmacy before you leave. I can, shall we say, strategically delay your parents so you have a chance to pop down unescorted."

Though she wasn't prepared to admit it right that moment, Hermione was extremely grateful for Healer Wenbrooke.

Her parents arrived back a few minutes later, looking decidedly less pale now that they weren't having to watch their daughter crying out in pain. A 'Muggle Relations Specialist' was also brought in to help guide the conversation, though frankly she didn't really see the point in this. It's not like getting cancer was common in the Muggle world either, her parents likely would have been just as lost listening to a Muggle doctor explain things as they were listening to her team of healers here. Still, it seemed to reassure everyone, and she supposed it was good to have some sense of familiarity during such an emotionally-charged time.

Though she'd been preparing herself for a blunt update on her health status, they were told that any results today would be inconclusive and that they'd need time for the treatment to take hold before they could make a meaningful assessment. She felt equal parts irritated and relieved. The waiting was nerve wracking but at least her mum would get her wish for a cheerful Christmas.

The ride home was awkward. Her dad too silent and her mum overly chatty, while all Hermione could think about was the small package she had surreptitiously hidden in her coat after her quick stop at the pharmacy on the way out. It had been a long day and she was still more than a little sore, so she was thrilled when her mum agreed to make her favorite mac and cheese for dinner and her dad fetched her drawing supplies and some tea while she curled up with Crookshanks on the couch. Her dad had turned on the news so he could listen while tending to the laundry, and though she looked around for inspiration nothing was really catching her attention enough to bother drawing it. She simply sat for a while listening to how the economy might finally be on the rise if home prices were anything to go by. Crookshanks had fallen asleep by her feet, his small exhalations hitting her big toe and causing her foot to occasionally twitch.

Eventually she picked up her parchment pad, flipping to a clean page and grabbing an ordinary pen from her mum's nearby crossword puzzle.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I've been thinking about you a lot and hope that wherever you are, this letter finds you well._

It was time that she actually finish her letter.


	27. Chapter 27

_Author's Note: Happy Sunday! First of all, congratulations to any readers from France for winning the World Cup, it was definitely an interesting tournament this year and has me looking forward to the women's competition in a few months :-)_

 _Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! This one is definitely filled with more Draco and less cancer-treatment, so I hope you all enjoy!_

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By the time her parents went to bed Hermione found that she was able to move around without too much of a limp, most of the normal feeling restored to her left side. She was pretty sure the second bowl of mac and cheese had done the trick, with a possible assist by the chocolate orange she'd split with her dad. She felt exhausted after her draining day of treatments, but she hadn't heard from Draco yet about his arrangements for the next day. Portkeys were hard to get around the holidays, what with the international offices being inundated with travel requests, and she worried that he wouldn't be able to come after all. _Perhaps he could floo to Diagon Alley and she could meet him there?_

Her anxious musings were interrupted by a tapping at the window, and with relief she moved to open it for the large eagle owl perched regally along the trim.

"Hello, Ajax," Hermione greeted the beautiful bird, watching as he soared gracefully into her room to perch along her bedpost, Crookshanks following his every move with wary eyes. "Did you have a good flight?"

The owl's only response was to hold out it's leg, offering her the small envelope in exchange for one of Crookshanks' cat treats. She really did need to stock up on owl treats…

She quickly tore open the letter, eager to see Draco's distinctive handwriting. She breathed a sigh of relief. He would be arriving tomorrow as planned, his portkey would take him to a spot in the nearby nature reserve a little after one, and he asked her to please meet him there as he wasn't sure the best way to find her house from the park. She wondered why he couldn't have gotten a portkey directly to her house, but decided it didn't matter as long as he was coming, as planned.

There was no indication that he was expecting a note back from her that evening, so she decided to take advantage of Ajax's presence to send a different letter. She'd resisted the urge to scrap yet another note to Harry, forcing herself to write out something short and caring without getting lost in a sea of what-ifs. _What if he didn't want to hear from her? What if he was angry McGonagall had told her? What if he knew that she was the one who turned him in?_

She'd always been a tad bit uncomfortable around owls, and wasn't entirely sure the etiquette for whether she needed to get permission from the bird or its owner. She couldn't tell by the owl's dark, unblinking stare whether he knew that she was _the girlfriend_ or whether, frankly, he even cared. Offering up two more treats she hesitantly attached her own letter to his substantial leg.

"Please take this to Harry Potter," she stated clearly, standing back to watch the bird's response. He remained stock still for five awkward seconds but then with a slight ruffle of his feathers Ajax took flight, soaring silently out the window and disappearing into the blackness.

Hermione closed her window quickly against the winter cold that had stealthily crept in and then moved toward her bed, eager to finally sleep and for the next day to begin.

She was up at 6 am despite her late evening, her nervous energy refusing to let her sleep. She thought that staying busy might make time pass more quickly, so she donned her running shoes and gifted vest to go for a brisk run around the neighborhood. Back at home she showered, surprised her parents with breakfast in bed, cleaned her already spotless room, and read half a book all before 10 am. Her mother gave her a knowing look, though wisely chose not to comment and simply asked for her daughter's help with the vacuuming. By the time noon rolled around Hermione simply had to get out of the house, and bundling up against the cold she set out early to wait for Draco.

The nature reserve he mentioned in his letter was really just a small copse of trees about a mile from her house, a favorite area for those looking for a small respite from civilization. Hermione wondered at the Ministry's use of the area for portkey arrivals, as even on this chilly Wednesday she could see a few individuals moving about along the trails that circled the pond near the wooded area. She too headed for the trails, deciding that she might as well keep moving while she waited for the next 30 minutes to pass. She thought it might snow by the looks of the cloudy sky, and vaguely considered whether the weather had any impact on portkey travel. She made a mental note to look it up.

It had really only been five days since she'd last seen Draco but it felt like a month to her young heart, beating a staccato rhythm in her chest. They had exchanged just enough letters to arrange his visit today, and Hermione felt a bit cheated that they'd have just half a day to hang out. She wondered if he would invite her to France after Christmas? There would still be nearly a week and half before they were due back.

She slowed her pace as it neared 12:45, not sure where exactly he'd be arriving but assuming it would be somewhere with tree cover. She dawdled near the edge of the forest, the light taking on a cloistered feel amongst the branches and she tried to subtly sweep her eyes across the space, looking for a flash of Draco's bright blonde hair. A brief tingle of magical awareness alerted her to his arrival, but it wasn't until he hesitantly emerged onto the pathway that she caught sight of him.

"Hey," she called out softly, suddenly nervous now that he'd actually arrived. Her former childhood enemy turned boyfriend here in her muggle town.

"Granger." He turned to her with a smirk, his body language instantly easing upon catching sight of her small figure.

She came to a stop just a foot away from him, squeaking in surprised pleasure when he jerked her into his body for a warm kiss hello.

"You're actually here," she grinned at him, craning her neck from where he held her pressed to his chest.

" _You're_ actually here," he countered, bending down to quickly claim her lips once more. "I was worried you might not have gotten my message, or not known where to find me. Figured I'd be wandering the countryside for hours drawing all kinds of attention with my dashing good looks."

She scoffed, pulling away a bit just to make sure he caught her eye roll. "Ajax delivered your note last night but I sent him out with another letter. I hope that's okay? Owls are scarce around here since I don't have one of my own."

"I see, you're just using me for my owl," he teased, pulling her in close again with a smirk. "Don't think I won't collect payment, Granger."

She blushed at his suggestive tone, a thrill shooting through her as his lips brushed against her own, his tongue barely caressing the corner of her mouth. She hoped they weren't causing any sort of a scene, what with Draco just appearing out of the woods. It was a relief to see that the area was mostly deserted, but she figured it would be smart to head away from there all the same.

"Come on then, let's get out of this cold."

"We're walking?" Draco asked, looking confused as she pulled him along the pathway and away from the trees. "Why don't we just apparate?"

Hermione frowned. "My parents aren't really used to people appearing out of midair. Besides, it's just down the road a bit and this way I can show off my neighborhood."

She continued tugging him along until he matched her step, casting a quick warming charm to better sell the 20 minute walk.

"Speaking of appearing out of midair, why'd the Ministry land you in these woods?"

"Well, you'll be interested to know that there are quite a few regulations around using a portkey to enter a muggle area. They don't approve of letting anyone appear out in the open, and obviously portkey-ing inside a structure is deemed highly risky. They said this was the best they could do on short notice, but to return I'll just apparate to Diagon Alley and use an international floo from there," he explained, matching her easy pace back into the town.

"Sorry about that, I hope it didn't give you too much of a hassle," she scrunched up her face in guilt. "I've been meaning for years to just connect my parent's house to the floo network, but there was just so much paperwork involved that it never seemed worth it."

"Don't worry about it," he assured her, using a long arm to pull her in closer to his side. "I'm just excited to be seeing you in your natural habitat."

"Good, because that's pretty much the theme of the day," she admitted, suddenly unsure as to whether she ought to have planned something more exciting. "I thought I'd show you around my house, introduce you to my parents, maybe indulge in a bit of holiday cheer."

"If by 'holiday cheer' you mean snogging in your bedro—oooommphfff," he wheezed in exaggeration as her elbow caught him in the stomach.

" _Please_ promise you'll behave around my parents."

" _Please_ promise we can find a bit of time for ourselves?" he countered, leaning in close to whisper his plea in her ear. Hermione just bit her lip in response as they began to reach the houses of her neighborhood, eventually starting to point out some of the roads and beginning what she was sure would be a long day of explanations on muggle homes.

"This is it," she gestured at her own house as they came to a halt on the front sidewalk. "Are you all ready with that courting dance?"

"Nice try, Granger." She pouted. She'd really hoped she'd be able to pull one over on him. Who had spoiled her fun? "You forget that I can read," he teased, giving her a smug look. "Would you believe they have an entire book dedicated to explaining muggle dating customs to us witches and wizards? Actually, they have three." If possible, his smirk grew.

"Fine," she conceded, reaching up on her tip-toes to press a last, slightly begrudging kiss against his lips. "I still think it would have made a memorable impression, though."

"Maybe next time, Granger. Let's do this."

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As it turned out, Draco was more prepared to meet her parents than she had expected. He came across confident and charming, immediately pulling out a bottle of French wizarding wine as a gift from his mother and a magical, harmless houseplant that changed flowers with the seasons. He was beyond attentive when her parents offered him a tour of the house, somehow knowing just what to compliment to have her parents beaming in approval.

Her parents hadn't been overly surprised when she'd told them about Draco, her mum least of all. It seemed she hadn't been as subtle in her letters home as she'd thought, and the photos she'd asked them to develop from her trip to France were, in hindsight, a dead giveaway. She suspected that they recognized his name from tales of her younger years at Hogwarts, the tear-stained letter she wrote recounting the beaver-teeth incident came sharply to mind. Whether they remembered him as her childhood nemesis or not they were polite enough to pretend otherwise. Instead they asked him friendly questions about his studies, his interests, and his family, all of which Draco answered politely and directly.

She figured it was safe to leave him alone for a few minutes with her mum while she helped her dad prep food for the grill they'd planned for dinner, but she'd been too optimistic. Just ten minutes of unsupervised time and her baby videos ended up on the VCR.

"Mum!" she accused, a blush staining her cheeks as a very chubby, 4-month old Hermione splashed around in a bubble bath on screen, a slightly younger Maggie Granger cooing at the baby and offering up a toy walrus.

To add insult to injury, Crookshanks had appeared from nowhere to snuggle in on Draco's lap for the show. _Damn cat_.

"We probably have a hundred hours of video of Hermione here. Do wizarding families have video cameras?" her mum asked Draco sweetly, completely ignoring her embarrassed daughter.

"Not like this," Draco replied, his eyes darting away from the screen to flash Hermione a gleeful smirk. "Hermione's been showing me some muggle movies but I had no idea that it was something that people could do at home."

"Oh Sam, let's pull out the video camera!" her mum called, sounding far too eager for Hermione's taste. "Wouldn't it be fun to get some footage of Hermione and her boyfriend?" She turned to speak to Draco again, "Sam buys a new model every few years to keep up with the latest tech. It's so impressive what they can do these days, you have to see!"

Draco looked torn between embarrassment and intrigue.

"Mum," Hermione tried again, her eyes narrowing in a warning.

"Lighten up, dear," her mum grinned in response. "We can at least show him how it works. Besides, it's practically a miracle your father hasn't pulled it out already this Christmas, it was only a matter of time."

"You're encouraging him!" Hermione accused, crossing her arms across her chest. She hadn't minded her parents video-happy ways as a young child, but the older she got the more she preferred to draw pictures of others than have her own face splashed all over their home theater. Having Draco as witness only added insult to injury. "I'm 18 now, don't I get a say?"

"There's no age of maturity when it comes to your old man's memories," her dad countered, popping his head out from the kitchen to weigh in. "I think it's in the study, do you mind checking Mags?"

Hermione decided that escape was the best choice under the circumstances, waiting until her mum had left the room before grabbing Draco's hand and dragging him off towards the garage.

"Dad!" she called, barely pausing by the kitchen, "I'm going to take Draco to the store to get the ingredients for sugar cookies. Do you need anything for dinner?"

Sam Granger shook his head, managing to look a bit sheepish. "We'll tone it down Chicky, I promise. Drive safe, okay?"

Hermione only barely managed to avoid rolling her eyes at his promise to behave. She knew she was acting irrationally, but she could hardly call herself a teenager if she wasn't embarrassed by the antics of her parents.

"Won't your mum be mad that we left?" Draco asked, a bemused grin on his face as he followed her through the house.

"She can film Crookshanks, he's quite the prima donna," Hermione shrugged, knowing her mum wouldn't be deterred by her missing subjects. "You up for riding in a car?"

"Really?" Draco looked surprised as he followed her into the garage. "You can drive that thing?"

"Absolutely!"

"Safely?" He questioned, lightly hovering his hand above the car as he slowly circled the foreign-looking object, seemingly unsure as to whether he could touch it.

"Promise," she replied, moving to the driver's side.

"I've seen you ride a broom, Granger," he teased.

"Get in the car, Malfoy," she countered, throwing him a teasing glare. "And buckle up."

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What would have normally been a 20 minute errand for Hermione turned into an hour and half adventure with Draco in tow. He was fascinated by the car, so she'd decided to take the scenic route to town in an effort to show him more. Though it was a standard English town, the snow that had begun to fall gave it an almost ethereal glow. Draco, it turned out, had never really seen Christmas lights, so she made sure to drive them through the neighborhoods she knew went all out.

Draco, true to form, had tried to convince her to drive them to a 'make-out spot' for a little alone time, something that his muggle-dating books had apparently mentioned as a common practice, but Hermione flat out refused. Not only did she not know of any spots, having spent very little time in the town as a teenager, but it was a small place and she was NOT in the mood to get caught. She didn't protest, however, when he pushed her back against the car once they'd returned home, the commanding feel of his hand in her hair leaving her breathless and humming for more.

"We need to go inside," she panted against his lips, already feeling their loss. "They would have heard the garage door, we don't want them coming to investigate."

"Fair point," Draco agreed, though he pulled away with a pout.

"You know, we practically live together most of the year," she pointed out, not sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. "It shouldn't be that hard to behave ourselves now."

"Trust me Granger, it's _hard_ ," Draco breathed, pressing in against her hip in a way that made it quite obvious just how 'challenging' he found the situation.

She couldn't help her blush any more than she could help the pulse of heat that shot through her body, trying desperately to fix her hair as she followed him back into the house as he chuckled smugly.

Hermione wasn't sure how long they'd lingered in the garage, but if her parents suspected anything they had enough tact to pretend otherwise. The dreaded video camera had surfaced, but it was easy to ignore that fact by focusing on one of her favorite Christmas traditions – sugar cookie decorating. Her family had nearly thirty different Christmas-themed cookie cutters, not to mention some of her odd-ball favorites like the pig and saguaro cactus. Every year they would make a huge batch to hand out to all the neighbors, decorating the festive shapes with various colors in a simple sugar icing.

Though Draco had obviously never made cookies the muggle way before, she was pleased to see how quickly he caught on. Of course, she had to temporarily bench him when he accidently tried to use his wand to mix the dough and sent the bowl careening into the air, but that just gave her dad an excuse to go show him how a barbecue works as they started up the grill for dinner.

The Grangers had an annual competition to see who could produce the best decorated cookie. A competition that, despite her artistic talents, Hermione had a history of flopping in. She always over-thought the design, as last year's attempt at a realistic looking Santa's face proved. The four of them took turns grilling, eating, and baking, Hermione showing Draco how to sneak a cookie by 'accidentally' breaking one.

By nine pm they were all stuffed, and with an impressive 200 cookies neatly iced and lined out to firm up. Draco had come in a close second place to her mum, his Christmas tree cookie not quite outdoing her rendition of an angel, by official majority vote. In a classy move, he offered to take care of all the dishes in acquiescence of his defeat.

"You really don't have to do these," Hermione assured him after her parents had retreated to the living room to catch the evening news. "I can do them later."

"Don't worry about it, Granger," he replied, leaning back against the counter with an easy smirk. "I _am_ a wizard, after all."

She gaped in surprise as he gave his wand a few precise flicks, the dishes rising to neatly float through the air and begin assembling next to the sink that had magically started to fill with soapy water. With another muttered spell all of the small pieces of food from the floor disappeared, leaving behind a bright shine and a distinct lemony-fresh scent.

"When in the world did you learn housekeeping spells?" Hermione remained as flabbergasted as she was impressed. Even _she_ barely knew how to do any useful cleaning work with her wand, only a few that Mrs. Weasley had shown her, and she couldn't really picture Narcissa Malfoy performing any light cleaning what with all of the house elves the family had.

"I'm a man of many mysteries," Draco teased, pushing off the counter to stalk towards her. "I am also a man who has received many detentions. Flitwick started making Blaise and I learn these as punishment back in third year, but I think I've forgotten most of them by now."

"Well color me impressed," Hermione murmured sincerely, lifting her hands to rest against his waist. She'd definitely have to learn a few of those, it could save her tons of time around the house.

"Now that that's sorted…" Draco hinted, bending his head to nip lightly at the shell of her ear.

"Shall we exchange presents?" she chirped brightly, stopping his hands from their upward ascent against her rib cage. She bit her lip, glancing nervously over her shoulder towards where she could still hear the sound of the news from the living room. "We can go out on the patio if we cast a warming charm."

"I like that plan," Draco agreed, growling a bit as she then slipped out of his arms and inched towards the stairs.

"I'm just going to go fetch your present, I'll meet you back here in one minute," she promised.

Once up in her room she quickly gathered the small parcel she'd wrapped two days ago along with a simple cream card. She'd been so unsure what to get him, but figuring it was too late now she hurried back downstairs, grabbing a blanket off her bed as she passed. Even with a warming charm, it was still _very_ cold outside. She found Draco standing in the same spot, surreptitiously licking crumbs off his fingers and a mildly guilty look on his face.

"Just taste testing. For quality control purposes, of course," he grinned.

"Come on," she rolled her eyes, pointing him towards the opposite door in the kitchen and grabbing a pig-shaped cookie of her own as she passed.

The snow was falling more heavily than it had been earlier, the weighty flakes dancing in the light spilling from the kitchen window. Though the small patio area was covered, snow had someone still managed to find its way onto most of the furniture, leaving a dusting of white. Hermione gestured over to the swinging bench folded along the side of the house, a quick vanishing spell leaving the wood relatively dry. They settled down at the bench after both cast some warming charms, Hermione tucked happily against Draco's side as he helped wrap the blanket more snuggly around them both.

Hermione felt immensely happy in that moment, letting the easy silence wash over her as they gently swayed on the bench, feeling safe and warm as she looked out over the backs of the houses in her neighborhood.

"If I place a muggle-repelling charm on the kitchen door, do you think it would work to keep your parents away?" Draco finally broke the silence, gently tickling his fingers against her side.

"Don't you dare use magic on my parents, Draco Malfoy," Hermione laughed, pulling away from him so she could sit up straight. "They usually go to bed after they watch the news, but they—ummmmmmmmfffph!" She cut off mid-sentence, falling gracelessly against his lap as he tugged her down to capture her mouth in a warm kiss.

"You were saying?" he teased, several minutes and several kisses later, his breath coming out in small pants against the sensitive skin of her neck, his tongue soon following to lick a sharp line up the curve of her jaw.

"We shouldn't," she admonished, pushing against him in a half-hearted effort to get him to stop. "I don't particularly fancy finding out how'd they react to finding their teenage daughter snogging out on the back patio."

"Well your dad did say he wanted to capture all of these precious memories…"

"Ugh," Hermione blanched, the mental image of being caught on tape enough to reign her hormones in under control. She straightened up, pulling him with her until they were sitting properly side by side once more. "Let's never let that happen."

"To be clear, this means I get to snog you twice as hard next time I have you to myself," he warned, a lustful glint shining in his grey eyes as he tucked a stray curl back behind her ear.

"Promise?" she baited him recklessly, biting her lip at the low growl emitting from his chest.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Granger," he warned her, eyes still flashing. "Remember that you said that next week, when we're in Italy."

"Italy? Next week?" Hermione blinked, feeling thoroughly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Blaise's mum is throwing her annual New Year's party," he replied casually, reaching down to pick up a neatly wrapped package. "I promised him I'd get you to come. And, I also promised that I'd deliver this."

"He got me a Christmas present?" she mused, feeling surprisingly touched. She'd gotten him a small gift that she'd sent from Diagon Alley a few days ago, but honestly hadn't expected anything in return.

"Fair warning. There's a 90 percent chance that he got you some sort of sex toy," Draco smirked, dropping the package delicately in her lap. Hermione colored, not sure what the proper etiquette was for receiving a _maybe_ sex toy, especially when sent by your boyfriend's best friend.

"Thank you?" she tried. Was she supposed to open it in front of him? Was he expecting her to refuse the gift and give it back?

"In any event, whatever he got you is unfortunately better than my own gift," he grimaced, pulling a tiny parcel out of his pocket and handing that one over as well. "I swear nothing seemed right, so…" he gestured vaguely at the package. "Yeah. Sorry."

She accepted the small gift, noting it was extremely light and wrapped in an expensive gold paper. _Probably not a second sex toy_ , she mused, confused by his embarrassed demeanor. Unwrapping the gift with nervous fingers, she quickly revealed a pair of delicate silver earrings. "Oh, Draco, they're beautiful."

He gave her an embarrassed grin, running a hand through his blonde hair. "I'm glad you like them."

"Why would you be embarrassed to give me these?" she questioned, moving them gently as they caught the light from the house.

"Well," he huffed, breathing out a weak laugh. "Technically, my mother got these for you. She sent them to me a few weeks ago, back at school."

"Really?" She wasn't put out at all, just confused as to why Narcissa would be sending her earrings in the first place. "Compulsive shopper?"

"Yes," Draco admitted, a bit of his smirk returning. "But I think she sent them as a thank you for the photograph we sent. Did you know she had it framed and it's now hanging on the wall of our living room?"

"Wow. That must look kind of strange," Hermione laughed. It had been an okay picture, but the lighting had been bad and the small polaroid camera was by no means top-of-the-line tech.

"It does," he conceded, moving an arm to pull her in against his side once more. "But she appreciated it. And I appreciate _you,_ even if I am rubbish at gifts this holiday. Let me make it up to you?"

"Draco, you're being silly," she assured him. "I only got you something small as well. It's terribly difficult shopping for someone who is so rich and only wears green and grey clothing." She shifted around until she could reach the items she'd brought from her room. "Here. Open the gift first."

She watched as he accepted the parcel, shaking it around a bit in an apparent attempt to guess at its contents. "Careful!" she cautioned him, not sure shaking was a good idea.

"Minoval oil?" he questioned, tearing off the paper and holding up the hand-sized vial of liquid. "What is that?"

"I saw this in a specialty shop in Diagon Alley. It's for your swim suit, apparently you rub the oil into the material and it helps amplify the magic of your spells. Plus it has natural temperature adjusting properties to keep you warm or cool depending on the season, and is supposed to be good for prolonging the life of the suit," she listed off, trying to remember how the shopkeeper had described it. "You don't have to use it, or anything, I just thought—"

"This is great!" he assured her, leaning over to steal a quick kiss. "My suit could use an extra boost, I can't wait to test it out in the ocean over break."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, not liking the sound of him swimming near such rocky cliffs but knowing she was unlikely to change his mind with her nagging. She was just relieved that he didn't already have the oil, the shopkeeper had said it wasn't very common amongst student athletes but with Draco it was always hard to tell.

"Shall I open the letter now?" he questioned, holding up the cream envelope. "Are there dirty pictures in here?"

She gave him a light shove, avoiding catching his teasingly eager gaze. "No dirty pictures," she spoiled, moving her body so she was sitting sideways and cross-legged on the bench. She was a bit nervous for this one, truth be told. "This one might be a bit strange…"

She held her breath as he carefully loosened the seal, pulling out the single piece of parchment inside. She'd debated for hours on whether or not to give him this, wondering if it was too strange or how he'd react.

"Ummmmmm, it's nice. Am I supposed to know what it is?" Draco looked up from the paper, a puzzled look on his face.

"No," she chuckled nervously, looking down to once again see the drawing she'd sketched out a few nights back. "It's a—umm—well, it's a tattoo design. For your, you know, your arm," she gestured weakly towards his left forearm.

The sketch was slightly bigger than the Dark Mark, featuring the Malfoy family crest and surrounded by two intertwined, non-evil looking (if she did say so herself) snakes and grounded by a wand. She rubbed her hands on her jeans, suddenly even more nervous at his silence and blank expression.

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" he finally spoke, meeting her gaze with suddenly sad and serious eyes.

"Draco, no, I-I didn't mean—that's not what I meant," she stuttered, horrified by the shuttered look on his face.

"No, it's fine," he said, shifting a few inches away from her and gripping the edge of the bench. "Of course it bothers you, it's a fucking symbol of _hate_ against muggle-borns." He practically whispered the last part, but the harshness of his tone cut through her like a knife.

"This is my fault, I did this all wrong," she sighed, scooting forward to take his hand and giving it an apologetic squeeze, then gripping it tighter when he tried to pull away. "Let me explain," she insisted. "I don't care about your Dark Mark. It's just a scar, a memory of the hardship you had to overcome and the choices you had to make. It's a part of you, and it doesn't bother me one bit! Besides," she added, giving him a tentative smile, "you almost always have it glamoured, anyway."

He briefly met her gaze, his eyes were still darkened in doubt but he gave her a small smile in return.

"What's this about, then?" he asked, nodding to the piece of paper now resting between them.

"I should have said this up front, but it's really just a selfish excuse."

"An excuse for what?" he raised an eyebrow, still not following.

"An excuse to drag you with me," she admitted. "I've decided that I want to get a tattoo, and if you don't come get one as well I'll chicken out and never go through with it. It doesn't have to be this design," she hastened to add. "The two snakes are supposed to represent duality and unification, I thought it could be a good way to pay homage to who you were and who you've become. It can represent your family, your magic, and your future," she trailed off, feeling a bit lame at her description of the simple drawing. Perhaps that was too much to ask of a single tattoo.

Draco simply stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. She felt the humiliation setting in, clearly this had been a terrible idea. She went to reach for the drawing in the hopes that out of sight would mean out of mind, but his hand shot out to stop her.

"You want a tattoo?" he finally managed, still looking a bit dazed. "Of what?"

Hermione shrugged, relieved that he sounded neither angry nor sad anymore.

"I haven't decided yet," she replied honestly. She'd been secretly working on a list of things she wanted to do before, well, before she couldn't anymore, and to her surprise the idea of a tattoo kept sticking in her mind. She'd sketched a few things out, but nothing felt right yet.

"You don't have to get one, obviously," she added, feeling a bit sheepish at the emotional drama her context-less gift had caused. "It was just a thought, but no pressure or anything!"

"Granger, stop," he reprimanded her, scooting close again and scooping her into his side. "I think it's a brilliant idea. Besides, it'll probably hurt a lot less than this one," he chuckled darkly, holding up his left arm.

Hermione shuddered on his behalf, not keen to think about what those circumstances must have been like.

"I'm sorry I bollixed that up," she murmured, turning her face into his neck and snuggling against him in half comfort, half apology.

"Don't worry about it," he murmured back, resting his cheek against her hair. "Now we just have to come up with a good idea for you!"

"Hermione?" She nearly startled at suddenly hearing her mum's voice coming from the kitchen.

"Out here, mum!" she called back, quickly pushing away to disentangle herself from a reluctant Draco. "We were just enjoying the snow and exchanging gifts!"

"Well," Maggie Granger poked her head out, a warm but pointed look on her face. "It's getting late so your father and I are headed to bed. Will you be headed out soon, Draco?"

"Actually," Draco grimaced, glancing at his watch. "I'll need to hurry before the international floo closes down for the evening. Thanks so much for having me, Mrs. Granger, I had a lovely time," he thanked her politely, standing to shake her hand as Hermione followed behind.

"It was our pleasure, Draco. I hope we'll see you again soon!" she added, moving back into the kitchen to give the two teens some privacy.

"You really have to go already?" Hermione pouted, disappointed that their time was up so soon.

"Unfortunately," he confirmed, pulling her into a tight hug and tucking his head against her neck. "But I'll see you in a week, yeah? You'll be able to come to Italy for New Year's?"

"I think so," she said, not actually knowing how her parents would respond but figuring they wouldn't have a problem. "See you in a week then?"

"See you in a week, Granger," he replied, brushing his lips against her own in a sweet kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "I'll write to you if I ever get my bloody bird back," he called, stepping off the porch and disapparating with a wink.

Hermione rolled her eyes into the darkness where Draco had just been, both sad at his departure but glad that they had a plan to see each other in just a week's time. His heating charms had faded with his disappearance, so she hastened to fold up the blanket and retreat back to the warmth of the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of milk and grabbed two more cookies before heading up to her room, torn between the thought of reading or just heading straight to bed. She changed into her pjs, only then remembering the second package that Draco had left her with that evening.

It was fairly heavy, wrapped in a shimmery purple paper that seemed to almost swirl underneath her finger tips. _Nice touch,_ she thought, absently. Knowing Blaise, she wasn't sure she even wanted to know what was in the package. Then again, she'd be lying if she didn't admit she was just the teensiest bit curious. And there was still a one in ten chance that it _wasn't_ a sex toy, after all. Even she didn't know which way she was hoping those odds would go.

Startled, she jumped at the sound of Crookshanks pushing his way into her room, causing her door to creak on its hinges. Blushing at her cat's seemingly knowing stare, Hermione quickly stuffed the package into a nearby drawer. Perhaps she'd get up the courage to open it tomorrow night…

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 _Author's Note: Sorry for any of you hoping to see Draco's courting dance! I got so many reviews from before commenting on Hermione trying to pull that trick, but I just couldn't see Draco falling for that._

 _On a different note, if I get enough reviews from people interested in Hermione opening up Blaise's package, I'll try to write up a special scene focused on that. I wasn't going to dedicate to much time to a follow up there, but if I hear otherwise (or if people feel strongly about what should be inside!) I will write up a special scene ;-)_


	28. Chapter 28

_AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Clearly the teaser of a sex toy is a good motivator for reviews, though I certainly can't promise that every time ;-)_

 _As a quick warning, this is basically a filler chapter but I wanted to get something out to thank everyone for engaging. Enjoy!_

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Draco sighed as he finally reached the zipper at the back of his wet suit, the tight material slowly peeling away from the skin of his back as he shrugged off the upper half of his training suit. The bottom half was a bit of a struggle, the material half-frozen from his ill-advised, ten minute trek back from the ocean. With a small grunt he was finally able to push the suit off his legs, grimacing a bit at the wet _plop_ the material made when it hit the floor of his bedroom.

He stood for a minute, naked, in the middle of his room, letting his muscles slowly readjust to the warmth of the house. He could feel the fine hairs that covered his body perk up at the sudden hint of heat, a wave of goose bumps skittering along his arms and up the back of his neck. The house elves and their magic ensured that the temperature was always perfect indoors, and Draco luxuriated in the comfort even as freezing drops of water continued to trickle from his hair. Glancing over at his bed, he briefly considered simply throwing himself at the king-size mattress and taking a nap. Ultimately deciding that his exhaustion wasn't worth the risk of destroying the expensive silk sheets, he instead headed toward the connected bathroom, using his wand to start the water in the shower.

This bathroom wasn't nearly as ostentatious as the one he'd had growing up in Malfoy Manor. While that one could have comfortably fit an entire Quidditch team with room to spare, this new one was of a more reasonable size, lacking the steam room, sauna, and hot tub that for eleven years he'd considered standard fare. Even toned down, this bathroom still boasted a large shower, jacuzzi tub, private toilet, and well-stocked vanity. More than sufficient, even for his decidedly spoiled tastes. Another flick of his wand and his wet suit came whizzing into the bathroom, magically suspending itself above the tub to drip dry. Normally the suit didn't carry much water, but because of the freezing temperatures outside the water had remained suspended in the fibers and would take a few hours to dry.

As soon as his suit was secure Draco quickly hopped in the shower, letting out a muted groan as the hot water finally spilled over his body. He'd been reckless, he was willing to admit, staying out in the ocean for over two hours in these temperatures. He'd been excited to try out the oil that Hermione gave him for Christmas and, upon discovering how well the product worked, had proceeded to over extend both his body and his magic. By the time he made it back to shore he'd been too exhausted to apparate, instead having to drag himself back up the narrow path of the cliff face.

The pressure of the water created a steady beat against his sore muscles, encouraging Draco to simply stand under the spray for several minutes, unmoving. He replayed the powerful performance of his suit in his head, making a mental note that he _absolutely_ must find a way to get Hermione a better Christmas gift. His arms were pressed against the wall of the shower to hold him up, and looking down his eyes traced the stark black ink of the Dark Mark where it boldly sat against his left forearm.

Despite there being no one around to see him, Draco's face took on a stony mask.

He'd been more than a little stunned once he'd finally grasped the meaning of Hermione's second gift. He'd experience a sensation similar to when he'd fallen off his broom in his younger years—a swooping sensation in the gut before the air got knocked clean out of his lungs. His brain had had trouble focusing at the time, swinging from the realization that her gifted sketch was meant to cover his mark, horror at the thought that he'd been slipping in his glamour, and then outright amazement that _the_ Hermione Granger actually wanted a tattoo. The drawing she'd given him was still carefully placed on his nightstand, where he'd taken to staring at it before bed and picturing the beautiful design in place of his vile _morsmordre_ scar.

When the level of steam in the bathroom reached a point where he could no longer make out anything beyond the glass of the shower wall, Draco reluctantly moved through his grooming routine before turning off the water.

He dried off quickly, taking a moment to clear the lingering steam with his wand so that he could better see his reflection in the mirror. Modesty had never been a strong point for the Malfoy heir, and with the confidence of a male model he dropped his towel to the floor so as to better admire his full form. His hair, slightly dark from the water, was slicked back from his face, and Draco eyed it carefully to determine whether he ought to get a trim before Blaise's party in two days' time. Deciding that it could indeed use a cut, his eyes quickly took in the contours of his face before slipping down to the rest of his body. The few familiar scars did little, in his opinion, to detract from the overall effect. Draco was proud of the definition he'd achieved in the last year, a disciplined diet to go with his swim and Quidditch routines was really paying off.

After a bit of preening and flexing, his hand slowly traced the familiar path down his abs to the hardening length between his legs, gripping his cock with a gentle squeeze. Dinner wasn't for another few hours, and he figured he might as well put his newly restored circulation to good use. The sight of the jacuzzi tub behind him in the mirror had become a constant trigger, as Draco allowed his brain to conjure a fantasy Hermione, naked and splayed out invitingly.

He bit his lip as he imagined her teasing him, picturing the way she would smile at him as her hands played with her breasts, the way she would moan as her fingers slipped between her legs and disappeared beneath the water. His hand began moving slowly up and down his length as he continued to stare into the mirror, his eyes darkening by the second. The fact that he hadn't actually seen her naked yet hardly mattered for someone with the imagination of a teenage boy, and Draco groaned as he pictured her fingers playing with a set of dusky rose nipples, his hand beginning to pick up a bit of pace.

Releasing himself with a muted groan, Draco decided to take this little game back into the bedroom so that he could really get comfortable. He moved towards his bed, remembering the way she'd looked laying there almost a month ago, eyes glazed and breasts heaving from her arousal. He smirked, briefly wishing that he'd succeeded in getting a picture so that he'd be able to remember the exact shade of her well-kissed lips. Settling back against his pillows, his hand immediately picked up where it had let off. He let his mind relax, trying to decide which fantasy in particular he wanted to indulge just then.

He had a veritable stock pile to choose from, many fueled by their recent relationship but some dating all the way back to the Yule Ball in their fourth year when he'd been completely blown away by her sleek curls and periwinkle gown. Seemingly at random, his mind alighted on a memory from a week earlier, when Blaise had finally shown him what he'd gotten Hermione for Christmas. The gift had been obscene, in Draco's opinion. Blaise had gone on and on about finding some Muggle shop in Italy dedicated to, in his words, 'the art of fucking'. He'd pulled out a brightly colored, purple _thing_ bearing a startling resemblance to an actual penis, if a bit smaller than Draco's own. He couldn't help but be fascinating by the object, even as he sternly insisted that Blaise would under no circumstances be getting that thing anywhere near his girlfriend.

Now, in the privacy of his own room and his own mind, Draco allowed himself to mentally conjure the device once more. Though he'd never seen one before, it didn't take a genius to figure out how it might be used. Pausing for a quick second to pour himself a glass of Firewhiskey from the stash beside his bed, he considered whether he'd prefer to imagine fantasy Hermione using the toy on herself or for him to be using the toy on her. _Why can't it be both?_ he finally decided with a smirk, his hand returning to his cock as he settled in for a very enjoyable afternoon.

dhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhd

Hermione had long ago given up pretending that she was doing anything other than staring fixedly out the window. It was hard to make anything out now that the sun had gone down, but every shifting shadow made her heart catch, wondering if an owl had finally arrived. It had been a week since she'd sent off her letter to Harry, and though Ajax had returned to Draco four days ago (or so he'd mentioned in his last letter) neither Hedwig nor any other owl had brought a response. She'd nearly burst into tears yesterday when an official owl from St. Mungo's had arrived. Thinking it was finally from Harry, she'd been crushed to see that it was in fact a missive from her own team of healers informing her that they needed to push back her follow up appointment by a few days.

Basically, she'd begun to feel like a giant ball of anxiety. She was worried about Harry, worried about her own health, worried about her parents and how they were coping with everything… Coupled with the fact that she was missing Draco and Hogwarts as a whole, and she had a point-on recipe for stress. Her parents were at the theater that evening with another couple from her mum's book club, and though Hermione had been attempting to distract herself with reading she'd really just been watching the skies and drinking cup after cup of her favorite chamomile tea. At least she had company—Crookshanks had been more than eager to help keep an eye out for birds, his bushy orange tail twitching every so often as he kept a steady lookout.

"See anything, Crooks?" Hermione asked absently, shifting her gaze temporarily to the cat. She hadn't really been expecting an answer, and receiving none she sighed, easing her body up off the couch and stretching out the muscles of her back.

It was too early to go to bed but late enough that she felt little motivation to rouse herself from the funk she'd fallen into. There was always the telly, but the various shows rarely held her interest now a days since she was never at home long enough to follow the thread. She eventually decided to wander upstairs, perhaps she'd check on her outfit for tomorrow to make absolutely sure everything was in place.

Blaise's mother's New Year's Eve party was tomorrow, and Hermione could easily add that to her list of anxieties. She'd received a startlingly formal invitation in the mail a few days ago, and both Draco and Blaise had owled her specifics for the evening's festivities. Apparently it would be quite the affair, and Hermione was nervous about how she should act and dress, having attended approximately zero pureblood Italian parties thus far in her young life. Plus, it was intimidating to imagine what Blaise's mother must be like given the colorful personality of her only son, and the very few stories Hermione had heard to date led her to believe that it would be nothing like the festive shindigs she'd occasionally attended at the Weasleys.

Her mother had helped her pick out something that she _hoped_ would be appropriate from a small boutique in Muggle London. Reaching her room, Hermione took a moment to finger the delicate and silky maroon material that she was hoping would make the right impression. The pair of black heels that they'd chosen would definitely be requiring some cushioning and balancing charms given her lack of practice, but they did give her legs a nice shape and Hermione was secretly eager to see Draco's reaction tomorrow.

She swept her eyes across her room. Maybe she could start a new sketch? She didn't really feel like concentrating on anything right now, finally deciding that a nice bubble bath would do the trick. She pulled out her favorite bathrobe, quickly undressing and gathering her hair up into a bun so that it wouldn't get wet. Her cousin had, rather perfectly, given her a set of high-end bath products for Christmas, so Hermione moved to her desk to begin searching through her school stuff in an attempt to find the gift set. Instead of the cream colored box she'd been searching for, she quickly found a different package covered in a swirling purple paper.

 _Blaise's gift!_ she realized, remembering that she'd moved it to her desk a few days ago. She'd felt too weird opening the gift with her parents just a few feet away, and the days since Draco's visit had been filled with the hustle and bustle of the holidays so she'd kept putting it off. Now, however, with her parents away and the house to herself…

She carefully closed her bedroom door before picking up the gift and moving it cautiously over to her bed. It looked rather innocent sitting against her white bedspread, but Hermione's subconscious was anything but as she bit her lip in hesitation of what to do next. Obviously, opening the gift would be the logical next step, but Draco's warning about the contents had her on edge in a way that she was far too cowardly to examine right then.

 _Stop being silly, Hermione. Just open it_ , she urged her subconscious. It wasn't all that dignified to be caught in a staring contest with an inanimate object, so with a deep breath she allowed her hands to tear open the paper.

Inside was…a box. A simple, white box, and when Hermione lifted the lid she felt a wave of confusion at the colorful array of chocolates tucked inside. They looked much fancier than the standard Honeydukes fare, artfully arranged to show-off the subtle yet dazzling designs. A distinct smell of chocolate, sugar, and cream wafted out of the box, causing her mouth to water involuntarily. They really did look divine, and she tried to push away the nagging sense of disappointment that was trying to creep in.

 _This is an absolutely lovely gift and I couldn't have hoped for anything better_ , she assured herself sternly. There was a beautiful green card laying on top, and she quickly read Blaise's holiday greetings, laughing at the off-color joke he'd included about Santa and his reindeer. The chocolates would, ultimately, make a lovely addition to her bath, so Hermione decided to shake off her strange feelings and go back to her evening as planned. However, as she began sorting the box's contents to pick out a good assortment, a small white envelope near the bottom of the mix caught her eye.

 _Princess!_

 _Happy Christmas. I hope Draco's been a good boy and let you have these chocolates all to yourself. While he confiscated my original gift (predictable spoilsport) I wanted to get you something worthy of the occasion. These are a little something that I picked up from the Weasley twins, still in product development phase but they assured me these are 100% safe. Feeling in the mood for an adventure?_

\- _Blaise_

Hermione could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest, the note held frozen in her fingers. What had he given her?

Peeking back into the small envelope, she found two small pills, about a centimeter in size each, resting near the bottom of the fold. _Pills? He'd given her a pair of black market pills?_ Hermione's mind raced through the series of possibilities. Because of the mess with Harry, her mind went almost instantly to drugs. It wasn't likely, of course, as she'd never once heard Blaise mentioned indulging in that sort of thing, and she doubted that the Weasley twins had shifted their target market that drastically. _But what could it be, then?_ They were a faint pinkish color and had a glossy coating, almost like a miniature piece of candy. She tipped them out into her palm in the hopes that a second piece of paper with more detail could come loose as well, but she had no such luck.

Hermione was definitely stuck.

How much caution did she feel like throwing to the wind today? In her gut, she trusted that Blaise would never give her something that was _actually_ harmful, but the fact that the product hadn't undergone rigorous testing made her squirm. Not to mention the fact that she didn't actually know what the pill did.

Finally deciding that she wouldn't overthink it, she grabbed a glass of water from her nightstand and before she could chicken out swallowed a pill in one smooth motion. Not sure what to expect, she settled her body back against her pillows and laid out on the bed, her nerves sky rocketing as she waited for whatever the effects of the pill might be. At first it seemed like nothing would happen, but then almost against her will her eyes fell closed and suddenly she found herself thrust inside of a memory charm.

 _The bright light, blue skies, and dazzling white sand were dead giveaways. Hermione was on a beach. She could make out her surroundings perfectly, but the physical sensation was muted. Though she could see herself standing on the beach, she couldn't feel the sand between her toes or the material of the white sundress that she was now wearing, but she did feel the suggestion of warmth from the bright sun and a slight rustling of salty sea breeze. Perhaps the pill simply transported one to paradise?_ This wasn't bad, actually _, she thought, moving her body to sit down in the sand so she could take in the peacefulness of the private beach. Though a book would have been nice perhaps._

 _Just as she thought of a book, one appeared on the ground next to her. She raised her eyebrows in surprise at the responsiveness of the charm, though when she tried to pick the book up she realized that her hand had nothing to grasp._ Darn prototype! _Not sure if anything else was on the agenda, Hermione simply leaned back and closed her eyes, taking in the relaxing sounds. She was interrupted after a few minutes by the sound of a splash, and opening her eyes again Hermione was shocked to see another person had appeared out in the water near the shore. A very, very handsome, male person._

 _The man was standing and facing away from her, but as Hermione watched open-mouthed he turned, flashing her a sinful grin before he started moving slowly towards her. He had tan skin, dark hair, and the greenest eyes that Hermione had ever seen. His black swim trunks hung dangerously low on his hips and as he sauntered towards her through the waves she seriously thought they might be in danger of slipping off. She felt completely dumbfounded, frozen in place as the stranger walked right up to her before sinking to his knees in the sand. He really did have the most captivating eyes, she thought, blushing as he picked up her hand and placed a gentle kiss along the inside of her wrist. She couldn't actually feel his skin against hers, but her body seemed to move in response to his, and she felt a lingering warmth from the place where he had kissed her._

What kind of a charm was this? _She thought, frantically._

 _The answer was fairly obvious, and Hermione could only follow along as the handsome stranger urged her to lay back against the sand. He didn't say a word, simply proceeded to kiss down along her neck to her clavicle, before starting up the other side. Hermione felt like her world had gone topsy-turvy—everything looked so real and yet all she felt was the increasingly heated sensation left by the trail of his lips. Was he really going to—oh yes, he was. Hermione threw her head back as she saw her dress being slipped off her shoulders, her breasts on clear display to the lips, fingers, and tongue of the charm. The visual this was creating was almost too much to handle, and she could feel her nipples become rock hard under the imagined ministrations._

 _'_ _I think he needs a name', Hermione thought in distraction, her breasts feeling warm from the rays of the synthetic sun. 'Perhaps Javier?' she mused, before catching her breath at the sight of the dashing smile he flashed her before sliding her dress down and off her hips. This was getting a bit involved, she realized, right before Javier's head bent down to disappear between her thighs._

 _Hermione gaped. The visual might be fake but the wetness building between her legs was very much real, and she was starting to panic about how far this charm might take things. She'd never had a guy's head even remotely near that area before, and to see such a convincing version of one down there now made her squirm. The man was very attractive, but it wasn't the pale blonde head that she'd occasionally allowed herself to picture, and the whole thing was starting to feel weird. As the man eventually lifted himself away from her and began tugging down his trunks with a warm smirk, Hermione decided that she'd had enough._

Her eyes came open, and with a start she realized that she was once again back in her bedroom, lying on her bed. Her bathrobe had come a bit askew, but Hermione still groaned at the feeling of the soft fabric against her over-heated skin. It felt as though her whole body had been electrified, magic and lust coursing through her veins and pooling low in her womb. The wetness she'd felt earlier between her legs was very much real, and Hermione bit her lip and she quickly considered her options. She normally shied away from even thinking about the m-word—living in a shared dorm with witches who struggled to master a silencing charm had naturally put her off such things for a while—but if any situation called for a little self-love it was this one.

As she blushingly pulled apart her robe and allowed her hands to fall to her breasts, she silently cursed and then thanked Blaise in her head.

* * *

 _So, what did you guys think? Was that close to what folks were expecting? Let me know, and get ready for the New Year's Eve party next chapter!_


	29. Chapter 29

_AN: Hello! This was meant to be a longer chapter, but as I am about to go out of town for the next few weeks I wanted to get something up rather than make you all wait even longer without an update!_

 _Thank you to all of my reviewers from last chapter - enjoy!_

* * *

Flustered.

That was the only word Hermione could think to describe how she felt as she clumsily stumbled out of the Zabini's fireplace and proceeded to bump headlong into a rather rotund gentleman walking by.

"I'm so sorry!" she gasped, hastily pulling away and giving the stranger a grimaced apology. She considered herself lucky that she didn't speak Italian, as she was sure it would have done nothing for her nerves to be able to understand what the man was muttering as he angrily stomped away.

 _Quite the entrance, Hermione_ , she chastised herself, looking around in an attempt to gather her bearings. She was practically half an hour late at this point. There had been a line for the international floo at Diagon Alley, and then when it was finally her turn she discovered that the floo address Blaise had given her wasn't working. The plan was for her to come in through the fireplace in Blaise's room so that she could easily find Draco and, in Blaise's words, avoid the "vacuous, viperous, pureblood society-types."

With the floo not working, she eventually had to apparate back home, grab her invitation, and apparate back so that she had the address for the main floo. While she wasn't the only international traveler dressed up for a party that evening, she couldn't help but feel self-conscious at the amused smirks of the floo staff and was grateful when she finally felt her body spinning away through the magical web of fireplaces.

She moved away from the press of new arrivals so she could take in her surroundings. She appeared to be in what she knew was likely a wizarding foyer, a place inside the entrance of larger households that was used to receive guests. Another person popped out of the floo as she stood there, while several groups of guests came in through what looked to be the front doors. A troop of neatly dressed house elves were scurrying around collecting guests' outerwear for the coat room, while a beautiful, lavishly dressed witch appeared to be greeting guests and directing them further into the ballroom.

 _Could that possibly be Blaise's mother?_

The woman looked shockingly young, but she supposed one never really knew when magic was involved.

Hermione tried to sneak a subtle glance at herself in the reflective surface of a nearby vase. Had her hair survived the earlier floo and multiple apparations? She was quite sure that no matter who the woman was, making a strong impression would be key should her nerves have any hope of surviving the evening. Gritting her teeth as she passed off her shawl to an eager house elf, she carefully edged in behind a couple in matching golden robes in front of her.

"Nome?"

"Uh. Hermione Granger?" She cringed, chastising herself for making it sound like a question.

The woman sneered a bit while still managing a polite smile, and Hermione had to wait for nearly thirty seconds while she checked, and then triple checked, the roll of parchment in front of her.

"Accedere." The woman finally gestured her through with a dismissive wave of her hand, and Hermione gratefully hurried forward and into the house.

She was taken back both by the grandness of the space as well of the thought of what it must have been like growing up in a home with a literal ballroom. Her eyes couldn't decide what to focus on first. The ten-piece band on the slowly rotating platform? The elaborate buffet on the left-side of the ballroom with ice sculptures that appeared to be _moving_? The dazzling colored orbs floating above the guests, at turns pulsing and sparkling with light? Needless to say, Mrs. Zabini knew how to throw a party.

Speaking of, Hermione wondered how in the world she was supposed to find Blaise or Draco in this crowd. Despite their earlier gripes about the stuffy purebloods sure to be in attendance, the crowd appeared to be more diverse than any she'd seen before. There were non-human guests everywhere she looked, many of which she'd never seen outside a textbook. It was hard not to stare in complete captivation at the scene, particularly given that she was without any better options for the time being.

She carefully made her way around the edge of the dance floor, trying to catch sight of a familiar face. She assumed there had to be at least a few other Slytherins in attendance, though most of the people she passed were clearly beyond Hogwarts age. She was glad when she finally reached the table of food and drinks, hastily picking up a glass of what she assumed was champagne, if only to give her hands something to do. The liquid was sharp and effervescent against her tongue and, unused to the sensation, she tried to will her face to remain neutral as she swallowed. Inching along, she grabbed a small canape to neutralize the taste of her drink.

 _Well, what now?_

She fingered the outline of her wand, hidden in a standard magically-concealed pocket along the outside of her dress. Would it draw too much attention to send Draco a quick Patronus? Perhaps she could ask a house elf to fetch Blaise for her?

"Ms. Granger!"

Hermione turned towards the voice, sinking in relief at the sight of the familiar blonde hair.

"Mrs. Malfoy," she responded, genuinely thrilled to see the Malfoy matriarch. "How are you?"

"It's Narcissa dear, please," Narcissa tsked, coming to stand in front of her and leaning forward in the traditional French greeting kiss.

Blushing a bit at the familiar display Hermione quickly downed another swallow of Champagne. "Right. Oh, and please call me Hermione, Ms. Granger makes me feel like I'm at school…"

"Hermione," Narcissa acknowledge still smiling. "Draco didn't tell me that you'd be attending, what a pleasant surprise. Have you been here long?"

"Just arrived, I had a spot of trouble with the floo. I was supposed to be coming through to Blaise's room so it would be easier to connect with the boys but it seems like the address they gave me is out of commission right now," she explained, briefly wondering whether it was proper, in Narcissa's view, to talk about flooing directly into the bedroom of someone of the opposite sex.

"They must have all other entrances shut down for the party," Narcissa offered, her face betraying no hint as to the perceived propriety. "No matter. This is a perfect chance for me to introduce you to a few people here. I know they'd be just thrilled to meet a classmate of Draco's."

Hermione felt helpless to resist, particularly given the arm that Narcissa had looped through her own. _Here goes nothing_ , she thought, resolutely squaring her shoulders and attempting to imitate Narcissa's regal stride.

dhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhd

She couldn't decide what she'd preferred, standing awkwardly alone against the edge of the crowd or being surrounded by a gaggle of Narcissa's friends, all of whom made Hermione self-conscious of her simple dress and barely-restrained curls. 'Thrilled' might have been an overstatement as to the women's interest in meeting her, though a few did seem genuinely interested when they heard her name.

One woman appeared to be British, but the rest seemed to be friends of Narcissa from France, judging by the conversations flying across the small group. Hermione bravely tried to keep up with the rapid-fire French, quickly realizing that it was easier to simply stand and nod along politely than try to keep up. The conversation seemed to be about the latest project of the Women's Society, but Hermione hadn't a clue what it was about. Unfortunately, it was proving difficult to maintain a guise of interest while desperately scanning the room for either Draco or Blaise. Or, hell, any other savior would do.

"Ms. Granger, fancy finding you here this evening."

 _Spoken too soon_ , she realized, closing her eyes briefly before turning to greet Snape with a polite smile.

"Professor," she stated, quickly taking in his typical, if perhaps slightly nicer, black robes. "How lovely to see you here. How are you this evening?" The words felt strange coming out of her mouth, overly polite and not at all standard for her interactions with her Potions professor.

"Better, I'm sure, than you," he drawled, giving her a patronizing look before turning to greet Narcissa.

She quickly downed the rest of her drink, scowling at the side of his face. His audacity of pointing out her discomfort was rude, and she wondered whether this might be the right moment to slip away and save herself from what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation.

"If you don't mind, ladies, might I steal Ms. Granger away for a quick moment?"

Her foot halfway lifted in a retreat, Hermione paused in surprise. What could Snape possibly want from her, at a New Year's ball no less? Feeling a bit as though she was going from out of the frying pan and into the fire, she quickly made her apologies and followed after him into the crowd.

"Ummmm, was there something you wanted to discuss, Professor?" she asked, confused as to where he was leading her and nervous about their proximity to the dance floor. There was no _possible_ way he would ask her to dance, was there?

Just as her nerves had begun working themselves up into quite a tizzy at the thought of what _Snape_ would look like dancing, and what _she_ would look like next to him, he abruptly came to a stop.

"You'll find that he tends to avoid his mother like the plague at these events, you would have been trapped all evening," he observed smugly, grabbing a drink from a passing tray.

Just as she was about to call him out on the presumptuousness of assuming she'd been 'trapped', his words seemed to register. Glancing around, she finally caught sight of Draco, her annoyance with her professor immediately melting into unmitigated appreciation.

"I could hug you, you know?" she declared seriously, smiling in true gratitude at the unexpected favor.

"Do refrain," he grimaced, though Hermione thought she saw the shadow of a smile as he turned and disappeared into the crowd without another word.

Part of her wanted to run to Draco before he managed to disappear on her, but the other part was thoroughly enjoying the opportunity she had to simply observe him for a moment, undetected. He was standing with Blaise and Derrick, she realized, recognizing the Slytherin 6th year. The three of them made quite the sight, Blaise and Draco wearing silver robes and Derrick in a deep blue, the styles ranging from Derrick's very traditional wizarding robes to Blaise's hyper-modern suit that made him look downright Muggle (though still a rich and famous one at that). Draco's looked like a hybrid, she decided, with a half-cape draped over a fitted suit showing off his impressive physique.

Managing to tear her eyes away from his broad shoulders and trim waist, she realized that he actually looked rather upset. He had his back turned toward her so it was hard to tell, but it looked like he and Blaise were discussing something serious by the way his arms were moving about, a single hand finding its way to run through his styled hair.

Deciding to make her presence known, Hermione quickly moved to cover the twenty feet between them.

Blaise spotted her first, and by the way his face instantly relaxed she surmised that _she_ had been the topic of their discussion.

"Princess!" he greeted her enthusiastically.

Draco spun around nearly simultaneously, clearly relieved to see her there. "Thank Merlin," he muttered, closing the distance between them and pulling her into a tight hug.

" _Oomphf_ ," she wheezed, equally glad to see him but a bit concerned for the state her dress would be in after being smooshed against him.

"I'm so sorry," he said, pulling away and looking her over, half in appreciation for her outfit, half to ensure she was unharmed. "Actually hang on, _Blaise_ is so sorry. He's the idiot that gave you a floo address that isn't connected to the British International Network," he stated, sending a mild glare over at the boy in question.

"Absolutely my bad, Princess," Blaise agreed, a touch of guilt encroaching on his smile as he too walked forward to pull her into a friendly hug. "All in one piece though, I take it?"

"It was a little touch and go there for a minute," she teased, hugging him back, "but Snape actually came to my rescue so I think you're off the hook. Hi, Derrick," she added, acknowledging the other Slytherin with a friendly smile that he returned with a grin and a nod.

"Snape? As in _Professor_ Snape?" Blaise gaped, looking shocked. "As in our dear, surly Head of House who has taken no less than 200 points away from you personally, for no reason, and who lives to torment all Gryffindors and make young children cry. That Snape?"

"He doesn't really make young children cry…" Hermione protested, feeling protective over him now that he had saved her.

"He made me cry," Derrick muttered softly, causing Blaise to give him a sympathetic grin.

Draco, ignoring them entirely, tugged her in against his side. "Did you come through the main floo entrance? I went through to look for you when we finally realized what this idiot did, but obviously I'd missed you."

"Thank you for looking for me," she said, craning her neck back so that she could see him from her position. "And yes, I got here about 30 minutes ago. Your mum came and found me looking like a lost duckling by the food, and then Snape came and extracted me from the clutches of her friends."

"Ah, Snapey's a real hero then," Blaise conceded, his face taking on an exaggeratedly solemn look. "We never would have found you there."

"She's not _that_ bad," Hermione again found herself defending.

"Her friends are a bore," Draco insisted, "though by all means feel free to disagree. I will not hesitate to sacrifice you if it means I can avoid being sucked into their gossipy dribble."

"Charming," Hermione scowled at him while Derrick bit back a chuckle.

"Speaking of mothers," Blaise said, looking around dramatically, "let's shift a bit, yeah? The longer we stay in one place the higher the chance is my mum will find us and drag me away to be shown off to the latest round of who's who."

"To the buffet?" Derrick suggested, and with a quick second from Blaise the four were off, Hermione's arm tucked comfortably against Draco's.

dhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhd

The ball was surprisingly fun, she decided, now that she wasn't trapped in a conversation about portraits or some sort, or standing frozen like one of those silly ice sculptures by the buffet table. It seemed all three boys were old pros at this kind of event, steering the group artfully around the room in a seemingly preconceived pattern that ensured they _just_ missed their parents while maximizing their exposure to food and alcohol.

Hermione hadn't realized there was a back room where a series of Wizarding games were being hosted. They looked fairly similar to what she knew of Muggle carnival games, where there was some small object of precision to be executed by hand-wand-eye coordination. It looked like fun, but when she expressed interest in trying Draco had quickly scoffed at her rookie mistake, ensuring her that his skills were sure to draw a crowd, which would in turn draw his mother, and then _where would we be after that, hmmm?_

She supposed that was how she eventually found herself out on the dance floor, though after her third drink of the night it was hard to be sure.

She had been adamantly opposed at first, sure that she would only end up making a fool of herself seeing as she knew none of the steps and lacked any instinctive skill that would have helped make up for her absence of technique. When Blaise's insistence that moving targets were harder to capture failed to convince her, Draco had stepped up to the plate. He whispered some nonsense to her about how fetching she looked in her dress, how he'd been looking for an excuse to have her in his arms, how _Relax, Granger, no one will be looking at us anyway_.

She'd finally conceded, allowing him to lead her through something resembling a waltz as she tried desperately to remember any of her training from the Yule Ball. It took two more songs, plus a turn with Blaise, before she finally loosened up enough to have fun.

Midnight struck from out of nowhere, the floating orbs of color suddenly exploding without warning and causing Hermione to shriek in alarm as she became covered in a dusting of sparkling glitter.

"Is there no build-up to these things?" Hermione complained, trying to calm her racing heart as the crowd cheered and the band struck up a traditional celebratory song.

"Just like a woman, always looking for a build-up," Blaise drawled, followed by a cough as Hermione smacked him in the chest. "Yikes, quite the temper on you. Good to know that Draco likes it rou—"

"Blaise!" she threatened, cutting him off mid-sentence with an unamused glare.

"Fuck off," Draco declared lightly, grinning as he passed out the round of drinks being circulated in celebration.

She danced a bit more with Draco and a few with Blaise and Derrick as well. They took turns dancing with some other women, she noticed, but for the most part seemed content to monopolize her in between frequent trips to the bar and the buffet.

It was nearing an hour past midnight when their luck finally ran out.

"Oh no," Blaise murmured, face scrunching into a frown even as he led Hermione into a flawless spin. "They've been caught."

"Who?" she asked, nowhere near following his thread as she was enjoying following his exuberant lead.

Turning her around and angling his head, Blaise nodded over to where they'd left Draco and Derrick and Hermione could see that they'd been joined by an older, and very well dressed, couple.

"Who are they?" she asked, confused as to what the big deal was.

"Those are Derrick's parents. Mr. and Mrs. Mondreu," Blaise explained, leading her further away across the dance floor as he spoke.

"Hadn't we better go save him, then?" Hermione wondered.

"Too late, Princess. It's like blood in the water. Narcissa will be there any second and then—yep," he nodded over and Hermione blinked as she realized Mrs. Malfoy really had come out of nowhere. "Draco's a goner as well. Our only option now is to save ourselves, escape to America, repopulate the species and all that.

She rewarded him with a fantastic eye roll, surprised her feet were still managing to find the beat.

"You'll thank me later," he assured her with a wink, suddenly turning and dragging her with him to the edge of the room, spiriting her out into a back hallway and away from the crowd.

"Where are we going?" she questioned, bemused by the abrupt change in scenery. He was leading her at a rapid pace through his home, giving her barely any time to marvel at the over-the-top architecture and bold decor.

"Shhhh," he hushed her, never breaking stride. "If you ruin our escape it will bring bad luck for the rest of the year. Old Wizarding tradition."

"Is not," she huffed, laughing a bit at his grin.

"Is too," he countered. "Pureblood society is built on the notion of children avoiding the clutches of their parents at stuffy parties. It's what makes us Slytherins so cunning," he winked.

"You don't think Muggles do the exact same thing?" she scoffed. "Avoiding one's parents is a time-honored tradition across all cultures, magical or—"

"So you admit it's a tradition?" he interrupted, flashing her a smirk. "In any event, I doubt Muggles have access to _this_."

She looked around, realizing they had someone how made it to the back of the mansion and were now outside. It was cold but not too cold, the air actually feeling nice on her overheated skin after all the drinking and dancing. She wanted to a be bit surprised at the sight before her, but at this stage it almost felt expected.

"You have a pool."

"That sounds so pedestrian," he scolded, moving over towards the water and tapping a few things with his wand. " _This_ is a veritable spa."

Hermione, in spite of herself, had to agree.

It was difficult to make everything out in the low lighting, but it looked like someone had carved the naturally rocky landscape into a series of pools and water features. His magic caused a few small lights to appear scattered the around edges, giving the area a rather wild look as the steam curled up from the shadows and disappeared into the darkness. There was a sound of running water coming from somewhere beyond her range of sight, and Hermione suspected there was some sort of waterfall or fountain hiding amongst the various enclaves.

"Come on," he beckoned, waving at her to follow him as he retreated further into the area along a path she could barely make out in the dim lighting.

Deciding she didn't want to risk the embarrassment of toppling into the water after attempting the cobblestones in heels, she bent down to remove the offending items and quickly followed behind.

"Oooooh, it's cold," she complained, surprised by the feel of the cool stones beneath her overheated feet.

"The water's warm," he assured her, finally coming to a stop a ways away from the house near the edge of a larger looking inlet. "But mind you clean those off first before putting them in," he indicated her feet with mock disdain.

"So dramatic," she sighed, sticking her tongue out at him as she petulantly dipped a toe in the water as he scrunched his face up in disgust.

"Commoners," he muttered fondly, setting aside his wand as he began easily removing his suit jacket, shoes, and socks before rolling up his pant legs and settling comfortably along the edge of the water, his feet drifting listlessly in the water.

"I thought I was a 'princess'?" she countered, sarcastically. She'd long ago given up trying to dissuade him from the nickname. If pressed, she might even admit that it had grown on her. Just a little.

"Una bellisima principessa," Blaise agreed, smirking at her again and patting the space next to him. "I suppose I'll make an exception, just this once."

"You didn't clean off _your_ feet," she grumbled, easing herself down next to him and delicately pulling up her dress to avoid the bottom getting wet. The water felt heavenly against her dance-weary feet, and she wiggled her toes languidly in the water.

"This is nice," she said, leaning back a bit on her elbows so that she could take in the stars. They seemed extra bright here, she supposed it was the lack of light pollution since there were no nearby Muggle cities out here, and Wizards were in the habit of using magic to limit the escape of such visible indicators.

"Indeed," Blaise agreed, shifting a bit as he pulled a miniature bottle of Firewhiskey from his pocket, using his wand to enlarge the bottle. "Happy New Year to us!"

"Should we really have abandoned our boyfriends like that?" she asked, watching as he expertly tipped the bottle to his mouth. "I feel a bit bad about that…"

"Silly Gryffindors, always so noble," he laughed in response.

"Oh, toss off!" she grumbled, holding her hand out for the bottle despite feeling more than a little tipsy at that point.

"To 1998!" he toasted quietly, taking the bottle back from her as she choked on the burning liquid.

They sat in relative silence after that, Hermione getting lost in her own thoughts as she listened to the distant patter of water, occasionally accepting back the bottle for a small sip. The combination of the alcohol and the late hour, coupled with the contrasting sensations of the warm water and cool air lulled her into a peaceful state, and she wondered whether it would be possible to cast a cushioning against the rocks and simply lie back and go to sleep.

"So, how's your cancer-thing going?"

She jerked up, suddenly on high-alert as the familiar ball of stress reared up inside her chest. She glanced over at Blaise, taking note of his serious tone and the way he uncharacteristically wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Not great," she replied, unable to think of anything better to say after nearly a minute of silence had stretched between them. She had yet to return for her follow-up, but she was smart enough to know that them pushing back the appointment wasn't good news, it was them trying to develop a new plan of attack for a disease that was still alive and well.

Blaise simply nodded, looking solemn as he raised to the bottle to his lips once more.

"Have you at least shagged Draco yet?" he questioned, finally turning to her with a hint of a smirk.

"That's—that's completely inappropriate!" she stuttered, mouth agape at his crude question.

"What? I just want to make sure you don't die a virgin," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her outrageously.

"I will shove you in," she threatened, jabbing her finger against his arm and then squeaking when he suddenly grabbed her wrist and tugged her to rest against his side. She put up a brief struggle before eventually succumbing and settling in more comfortably against his shoulder. This was nice, she supposed. Certainly more comfortably than the rocks at any rate.

"How would you like it if I asked if you were shagging Derrick?" she muttered, catching herself a second later. "Wait! I take that back, I'm sure you'd be absolutely delighted to go into excruciating detail."

"Anytime, princess, anytime," he laughed against her. "In fact, the other day we…"

"Stop," she begged. "If I have to run away from you I will be lost out here forever."

"Your loss," he shrugged. She could practically feel his grin radiating off him, thankful for once that she wasn't a legilimens so she could be spared any knowledge of what must be running through his head right then.

"Is it—is it _acceptable_ " Hermione cringed, that wasn't the word she was looking for. "I mean, is it common for purebloods to be gay?" She'd always wondered, and now seemed like as good a segue as she was liable to get.

"Not really," Blaise replied easily, taking another drink before offering her the bottle. "My mum's always been remarkably open about those things, but then she's fairly untraditional herself." He paused. "Derrick's family's a bit more proper, I'm sure they won't be thrilled if they ever find out. Probably try to move up his wedding to squash the rumors."

"He's engaged?" Hermione gaped, surprised. "To a woman?"

"It's expected," Blaise shrugged. "In fact, you'd be surprised what our little kiss in the Great Hall did for my reputation amongst the society types. My mum got two inquiries as to my betrothal status once the rumors hit home," he chuckled, sounding far too amused for Hermione's liking.

"You make it sound like I was a willing participant in that _attack_ ," she huffed, but then thought a bit more about what he said. "That's kind of awful, though. I'm sorry."

"Not to worry, Princess, the world's changing fast. I'm convinced I'll get to live the life I want," he declared, sounding downright cocky.

Hermione looked back over the dark water, happy for him at the same time she wondered what it would be like to feel such confidence in one's future.

"Enough about that. We're going swimming!" Blaise declared in excitement, Hermione barely catching herself as he abruptly stood.

"We're going _what_?" she blinked. He couldn't be serious. They were both in their formal wear and it wasn't like she had a bathing suit ready and waiting in her pocket.

"You heard me," he declared. "Swimming. It's a New Year's tradition!"

"You certainly seem to have a lot of traditions this evening," she scowled at him, unmoved.

"You're going in no matter what," he stated, matter-of-factly. "Your choice whether the dress goes with you."

She blanched. Was he suggesting the she take off her—yep. He _was_ suggesting that she take off her dress, she realized, as she quickly averted her eyes from where he was calmly stripping off his own clothes. Five seconds later she heard a splash, quickly looking up to see that he'd jumped in, his head barely discernable bobbing in the darkness. She glanced at his pile of clothes in alarm. Was he naked? It certainly seemed to be the case, and she quickly retracted her feet from the water, feeling distinctly off-balance from the rapid change of events.

"Tick-tock, Granger."

"No way!" she called, stumbling to her feet in a bit of a drunken haze. How many drinks had she had at this point?

"Live a little!" he cajoled, splashing his way over to her. "It's dark out, I won't see a thing!"

She hesitated, considering this argument. It was true that she couldn't see him, but what if lights suddenly turned on or a full moon came out of nowhere or other people showed up?

"You can keep your underwear on…" he pacified in a sing-songy voice, still trying to lure her in.

"I—I haven't got a bra on," she admitted, biting her lip in embarrassment.

"Like I care," he countered. "Gay, remember? I'm not interested in breasts."

"I don't trust you!"

"Fine," he chuckled. "I care a _little_ , I'm a living breathing human, after all, and you are Gryffindor's Princess. You'd have to practically be dead not to be just a _bit_ curious…"

"Blaise!" she scolded, covering her face in her hands as a blush spread across her body. "Stop talking about my breasts!"

He laughed. "I won't look," he promised, sounding borderline sincere. "Just come in before I have to drag you kicking and screaming, and then Draco will have to come investigate and beat my arse."

She sighed, pondering her options. The idea of skinny-dipping was not top of her list. Not even the secret list she'd been keeping from Draco and Blaise, what she had taken to thinking of as the non-outrageous HLLLL list, as stupid as that acronym was. But the water had felt nice against her skin, and it was rather dark out here and she might have been more than a little drunk…

"Turn your back," she demanded, making up her mind.

"Prude!" he called back with a smirk, turning around all the same.

She picked up the nearby bottle of Firewhiskey, grimacing once again at the burn it caused running down her throat.

 _Here goes nothing…_

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 _Like I said, I didn't originally mean to leave you all hanging, but here we are... :-) Reviews always welcome!_


	30. Chapter 30

_AN: So who deserves an award for finally updating their story? Well, no awards deserved here, but for anyone still following along I'm very sorry to make you wait, and hope you enjoy the latest installation - and continuation of Hermione's pool fun ;-) Happy November!_

* * *

Hermione stumbled a bit as she got to her feet, the hard stone of the ground feeling significantly colder after the warmth of the water. She took a moment to carefully glance around, wanting to assure herself that they were well and truly alone before attempting something so out of character. Her eyes scanned the water nervously, just barely making out a dark shape in the direction of the light slapping noises she could hear against the water.

"Is your back really turned?" she called out, folding her arms against her stomach to ward off a chill from the slight breeze.

"Promise!" she heard Blaise laugh, satisfied that his voice sounded sufficiently far away.

It would be now or never, she realized, and since Blaise would never let her get away with the latter she forced her body into motion. Her hand curved around to the back of her dress, fumbling for a moment to find the zipper before she was able to get a good grip. The sound of the metal releasing its clasps seemed loud in the sudden silence, and Hermione felt her heart race a bit as her hand finished its descent and came to rest at her lower back. Her ensemble for the evening really wasn't that complicated, and with a slight shrug she felt the material of her dress fall off her shoulders and gather by her waist. A quick shimmy later and the dress was pooled on the ground, leaving her in nothing but a small pair of black knickers.

Her arms rose instantly and instinctively to cover her chest. Even knowing that no one could see her, it still felt unnerving being so exposed outdoors and she moved quickly to pick up her dress and lay it carefully on top of the pile that Blaise had made. No sense in her clothes getting dirty too.

The feeling of the breeze felt so foreign against so much bare skin, causing her body to shiver and give way to a fine layer of goose bumps. She paused for a second, wondering if perhaps she should just embrace the moment and do away with her panties as well, but quickly chickened out as she released a small laugh.

"You naked yet?" Blaise called, his voice now coming slightly from her right.

"Stupid Slytherins," Hermione responded under her breath, not bothering to give him a proper reply.

She shuffled back over towards the water and lowered herself delicately to the edge. It might have been more in keeping with the spirit of skinny dipping to simply launch herself into the water, but she was determined to stick with her own convention. Taking a deep breath, she carefully raised herself up on her arms, pushing her body forward and slowly submerging herself in the pool.

The water felt like silk encasing her skin, and Hermione blushed at the sensation of her nipples resting teasingly at the very edge of the water, the depth of the pool causing them to hover just on the border of being fully submerged. She carefully bent her knees to bring the water up to her neck, reveling in the magical warmth of the water against the chilly evening air.

She had obviously been swimming before, but there was something so rebellious about the feeling of water on her skin with no barrier in between, and she once again toyed with the idea of removing her last article of clothing, one hand coming to hover next to her hip in the water.

"Did you self-combust from the effort of breaking the rules?" Blaise called over once again, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"Har har," she grumbled in reply, angling her body toward the direction of his voice. "I'm in, you happy now?"

"Pretty pleased, yeah," he admitted, and she could hear the sound of his body moving toward her through the water. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

It wasn't, Hermione had to admit. Now that she was in and the initial adrenalin rush had worn off, she found herself to be surprisingly relaxed with the buzz of alcohol still thrumming through her body. She didn't even panic as she saw his form materialize more solidly in front of her, grinning at her in the dark.

"You seem pretty pleased with yourself," she commented, unable to stop herself from returning his grin.

"It's not every day that one manages to convince one's friends to go skinny dipping, though I always knew you had it in you Princess," he winked.

"Don't think for a second that I believe this is the first time you've been skinny dipping," she countered, knowing him too well at this point to believe otherwise.

"You wound me, Granger," he mock pouted, coming close enough now that she could clearly make out the features of his face. "When have I ever—"

"Have you no memory of stripping naked in my common room when I agreed to do a portrait of you?" she asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

"You're welcome," he winked again, both of them breaking into an easy laugh.

Hermione allowed herself to explore a bit, pushing her way slowly through the water and gazing up at the stars as she listened to Blaise recount the _many_ times he had in fact been skinny dipping. She wasn't surprised to hear that the Slytherin boys had an annual hazing event where they forced the new first years to jump naked into the Black Lake, and she laughed at the thought of a then-prissy Draco getting his precious hair wet. She imagined that he would practically glow in the dark with that white skin of his, and she briefly allowed her thoughts to wander to the memory of him emerging from the Black Lake many mornings ago, he fresh from a swim and she laying haphazardly on the ground recovering from her run.

She was just starting to think that maybe she should listen to Blaise more often, when she heard the sound of approaching voices. She was momentarily frozen in horror until her brain caught up with her other senses, registering the voices of Draco and Derrick.

"I think I almost got a heart attack just from standing near you," Blaise teased her in a whisper before moving past her and closer to the edge of the pool that they had steadily drifted away from. "Gentleman!" he called out. "Nice of you to join us."

"Blaise!" Hermione heard Draco respond, noting the irritation in his voice as she too began making her way back closer to the edge. "I can't believe you did that to us, man. We've been having the same conversation for over forty five minutes now, AND I had to dance with your mother in front of her new beau. You had better have Granger with you this time or I swear to Merlin—"

"Calm down, D," Blaise interrupted, having made it to the border of light coming from the set of small, magical lanterns that were barely illuminating the path. "Granger's with me. I thought it was best I save who I could, no sense in us all being miserable."

Hermione could just make out Draco and Derrick's forms as they finally made their way to the correct inlet, no doubt following the sound of Blaise's voice.

"Hey," she called out weakly, wanting to corroborate her presence without actually having to reveal herself.

As both boys reached the water's edge, she hesitated to leave the comforting shadows, being suddenly reminded once more of her distinct lack of clothing. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea after all, she mused, instinctively crossing her arms across her breasts and crouching further under the water. She was sure that they'd have a much harder time seeing her than for her to see them, what with the placement of lights, but it was unnerving to suddenly have an audience to her small act of rebellion.

"This is a nice area," Derrick spoke up nonchalantly, both boys reaching the pool and coming to sit along the edge of the water. Hermione watched as Derrick quickly removed his shoes to put his feet in while Draco in turn went straight for the bottle of Firewhiskey they had left sitting nearby.

"Make note," Draco said, settling in alongside Derrick and taking a long pull on the now half-full bottle. "Next year we skip the party and come straight out here, mothers be damned."

"You bring the booze," Blaise quipped, moving all the way up to the edge and taking the bottle from Draco and taking a quick sip before passing it along to his boyfriend.

Hermione remained hovering further back, moving her legs in a rapid pattern to tread water and calm the nerves that remained in full force. As the boys lapsed into a content silence she took advantage of the momentarily lull to take in the sight of her boyfriend. He had lost his cape and suit jacket at some point and was looking markedly more casual in just a blue shirt and his black dress pants. It was an odd combination of colors for him, she realized, so used to seeing him in nothing but green and silver. She tried to imagine what he would look like in something as adventurous as red or purple, making a small mental note to find out someday soon.

She could practically feel the tension beginning to slough off him as she watched him bring the bottle to his lips once more.

She wanted nothing more than to go and wrap her arms around him, but the fact that she was naked (and therefore trapped to live out the rest of her days hiding in the pool) held her in check. It was only a matter of time before both boys discovered the situation they had walked in on, and sure enough Derrick spoke up seconds later.

"Good evening for a swim?" he queried easily, his eyes fixed on the dripping chest of his boyfriend.

Hermione held her breath as Draco seemed to perk up and take in the full scene before him. She watched as his eyes quickly glanced at Blaise before sliding over to the pile of their clothing resting nearby, and then finally as they peered out at the water, obviously looking for her.

"Are you—are you both naked?" he sputtered, turning accusing eyes back towards Blaise.

"Is anyone really naked in the glow of the stars?" Blaise quipped with a semi-drunken grin. Hermione rolled her eyes at his obnoxious response and watched as he, very wisely, moved further away from the edge of the pool and out of Draco's reach.

"Blaise!" Draco growled out, sounding half-angry and half-exasperated as he got to his feet. "Hermione?" he called, his voice still laced with frustration.

"He made me!" she blurted out, feeling like a child who had been caught by her parents and who was now trying to avoid getting in trouble.

"Did not!" Blaise countered, sounding equally as petulant.

"Ahhhh!" they both screamed out in unison as a very naked Derrick suddenly launched himself into the pool, landing very near where Hermione was still hiding out and giving her a view of the sixth year she had neither planned nor cared to see.

"Why wouldn't you just transform your underwear into a bathing suit?" he pressed, looking rather agitated as he ran a hand through his hair.

Hermione moved away from Derrick and closer toward the edge of the pool, making sure to keep her body firmly hidden beneath the water as she entered the slight ring of light.

"Because I didn't have a bra on?" she offered tentatively, scrunching her face a bit in apology as she finally made eye contact with her boyfriend.

Draco simply blinked at her for a long few seconds, eventually allowing his hand to fall from his hair as he let out a low groan at the same time that she heard snickers coming from behind her.

"Nice, Princess," she heard Blaise whistle. She blushed in response, lowering her eyes and sinking even lower into the water.

By the time she raised her eyes again she saw that Draco was in the process of undoing the buttons on his shirt, the pale blue material slowly falling away to reveal his strong pecs.

"What are you doing?" she asked, surprised at his actions. The thought of them both being naked, in the water, together with Blaise and Derrick made her feel a little panicky.

"Come here," he urged her, voice still tinged with a hint of admonition. "Put this on."

She made her way slowly through the water, gulping a bit as she watched him finish taking off his shirt. She stopped when she reached the edge, looking up at him with a cautious grin.

"Hi," she smiled, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Hi," he returned, rolling his eyes at the same time as he smirked, lowering himself into a crouch. "Having fun?"

"More fun now that you're here," she whispered back, biting her lip at the heated look that crossed his face.

"Call me old-fashioned," he said, his voice coming out in a delectably low tone, "but I was kind of hoping that the first time I got to see my girlfriend's breasts would not be in the company of two other guys. Who also happen to be naked," he tacked on, narrowing his eyes as he looked behind her to where she was sure Derrick and Blaise were still hiding in the shadows.

She looked up at the dress shirt he was now holding out to her over the water, frowning a bit at the logistics.

"How am I supposed to, ah…" she trailed off, cautiously removing an arm from around her chest to gesture vaguely at the material.

"Is that a trick question?" he laughed, raising a single eyebrow. "I, personally, like to start with the arms…"

"Shut it," she scolded. "I mean, I can't exactly put it on in the water, can I? The material will become all clingy the second it gets wet."

Hermione could swear she saw the hint of a devilish look cross his eyes before he tamped it down, his face returning to a neutral innocence. "Guess you'll just have to come out and get it, then," he suggested.

She nodded, wondering how she would possibly manage to extract herself from the water without compromising her dignity. She gave Draco a pointed look to which he simply grinned before standing up and laying the shirt gently on the ground.

"Oi, you lot!" he called out, moving slightly away from her and looking out at the water. "You better have your eyes shut if you know what's good for you!"

Hermione moved as quickly as she could, carefully hoisting herself out of the water and grabbing his shirt, careful to keep her back turned to the water at all times. Water was still dripping down her body, causing the material to cling to her skin as she pulled it closed against her chest and began fumbling with the buttons. _How in the world did Draco manage to get these undone so quickly_?

"Ahh!" she cried out, surprised at the pair of cool hands that came to rest at her waist, eventually relaxing back into Draco's form as she realized who it must be.

"You know, this is a rather fetching look on you," he growled, moving his lips against the shell of her ear and nipping lightly at her lobe.

Hermione blushed, well aware that the material was clinging ever more provocatively as the water from her skin turned the shirt a darker blue and plastered it against her curves.

"Thanks," she mumbled, feeling a little breathless and out of her element as she chanced a look back at him over her shoulder. While some of their snogging sessions had gotten a bit heated before the break she couldn't help but feel rather exposed. His distinctive musk clung to the material, making her feel dizzy as his hands brushed teasingly against the front of her thighs as he moved to help her with the buttons. She held her breath, bringing her hands to clutch at his pants as she leaned back into him, watching as his hands moved methodically up the shirt and occasionally caressing the skin of her stomach in a barely-there touch. She was burning with the growing desire to turn and kiss him when Blaise decided to interrupt.

"Will you two lovers be joining us?" he called out in amusement. "Derrick and I are heading for warmer waters."

"Sod off!" Draco called in response, his tone lacking any malice. He sighed, stepping away from her a bit.

She finally turned, watching as he removed his wand from his pocket before taking off his pants in a smooth motion. She only had a few seconds to appreciate the view of his tight black briefs before he muttered a spell and transformed the material into a standard pair of swim trunks. He set his wand and pants down by the growing pile of clothing that had accumulated, took a another quick swig of Firewhiskey, and gestured toward the pool invitingly.

"Shall we?"

Hermione nodded eagerly, glad to be getting out of the cool breeze. Before she could take two steps forward, however, he was grabbing her and tipping them both unceremoniously into the water, her squeals drowned out by his laughter.

dhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhd

"This is pretty nice," Derrick observed in the matter-of-fact nature that Hermione had begun to associate him with.

"If only _someone_ had thought to bring the booze with them," Blaise grumbled, sending a pointed look towards Draco.

"Maybe if _someone_ hadn't been swimming with my naked girlfriend…" Draco countered good-naturedly, and Hermione was relieved to note that his irritation had seemingly dissipated.

She tried to ignore their bickering, choosing instead to simply enjoy the contrasting sensations of the hot water and the cool evening air. After the unexpected plunge curtesy of one very smug blonde, Hermione had followed the three Slytherins across the pool to a small stone-ensconced grotto that seemed to be the equivalent of a Muggle hot tub. She had long ago lost track of time, but it had to be well past midnight at this point and she was content to snuggle up against Draco's body under the water, allowing her eyes to close and thoughts to drift.

"You know, B, you seem to have a knack for getting into these messes. Next time I catch you skinny dipping, snogging, or sending sex toys to Granger here, I'll have no choice but to kick your arse."

Hermione's ears perked up a bit at that last one. _Sex toy?_

"Sex toy?" Derrick asked, a near echo of her own thoughts. "Bold move."

"It would have been, if _someone_ hadn't spoiled my fun. How _did_ you like my gift, by the way, Princess?"

Hermione couldn't help but stiffen, memories of that small pink pill rushing back to her and causing her skin to flush.

"What gift?" Draco asked suspiciously, pulling back to look at her face more closely.

She felt all relaxation immediately flee, her brain instantly sobering as it occurred to her, belatedly, how mad Draco might be about the gift.

"Just some chocolates Blaise gave me for Christmas. You delivered them, remember?" she prompted, cursing herself for how high her voice had become.

"Chocolates," Draco repeated, looking between his flustered girlfriend and his suspiciously innocent-looking best friend. "What kind of chocolates?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione continued, fully realizing she was rapidly digging herself into a hole. "They were quite delicious, where'd you get them from?"

"So, you _enjoyed_ them, did you?" Blaise asked wickedly, giving her a knowing wink.

" _Blaise!_ " Hermione hissed, glaring at him for his complete lack of subtlety.

"Someone going to fill me in?" Draco asked, his head still moving between the two, probably looking for the weakest link.

"Well," Hermione began, searching her brain for the best way to phrase his gift.

"I gave her a day-dream pill," Blaise offered casually, shrugging his shoulders.

"A day-dream pill," Draco repeated, still sounding, rightfully, suspicious. "And what is that, exactly?"

"Oh! Is that one of those pills the Weasley twins are working on that cause you to have a sex dream?" Derrick broke in, sounding rather intrigued. "Rumor is they've been working on them for years, but I didn't think they were selling them yet."

 _Perfect time to chime in, Derrick_ , Hermione thought in mild exasperation.

"What?!" Draco shouted, rounding on Blaise and looking rather furious. "You gave her one of those pills!? Has it even been properly tested, yet?!"

Hermione cringed at the anger in his voice.

"It was perfectly safe, D, you know I wouldn't give her—"

"And _you_!" Suddenly his attention shifted, and Hermione tried to disappear into the smooth stone behind her. "How could you just take something when you didn't know what it was?" he accused, sounding rather hurt.

"I guess—I guess I wasn't really thinking," she started, feeling a flood of shame at the admission. "It was a stupid thing to do—"

"Yeah, it _was_ a stupid thing to do!" Draco continued, not quite shouting but still speaking with significant force.

"I'm sorry!" she rushed out, feeling the prick of tears stinging the corners of her eyes as she crossed her arms across her chest, attempting to blink them away.

"Hey, sorry," he murmured, his tone instantly softening as he caught her tears. "I'm not trying to blame you for anything. _You,_ on the other hand," he threatened, turning towards Blaise only to catch both remaining boys scrambling out of the hot tub and disappearing with a splash into the darkness of the main pool.

"Figures," he muttered, turning back to face Hermione. "Just wait 'til I get my wand back…"

"I really am sorry, Draco," Hermione choked out, standing up and closing the two feet or so between them until she could wrap her arms around him. "Please don't be mad."

The combination of the shame, the alcohol, and the late hour were really doing a number on her, and she could feel her emotions slipping a bit out of control.

"I'm a little mad," Draco admitted, sighing as he brought his arms up to hold her. "It's just, I don't want you playing around with your safety like that. When I get my hands on Blaise…if anything had happened to you…"

Hermione cut off his mutterings with a kiss, realizing with a start that it was the first time they'd actually done so the entire evening. They had tried to refrain from PDA in front of their friends and all the guests, and since kissing at midnight wasn't a tradition in the wizarding world she'd missed her chance then as well. _What a waste_ , she thought, inching up on her tippy toes so she could move her mouth a bit more firmly against his.

Draco allowed the kiss to continue for a few more moments, eventually pulling away with a small groan.

"You know," he murmured, bringing up a hand to tuck a stray, wet curl behind her ear, "I must admit I'm a bit jealous."

"Of what?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Of the fact that you felt the need for some simulated action when you have me right here," he accused, his voice husky as he bent his head to nip lightly against the exposed skin of her neck.

"To be fair," Hermione said, feeling distracted by his teasing lips dancing along the collar of her wet shirt, "I didn't actually know what it was—uummmphfff!"

Hermione gasped as she was suddenly hauled out of the water and onto her boyfriend, Draco's arms bringing her legs to wrap around his waist and pressing her tightly against his chest.

"Are you trying to get in more trouble, Granger?" he growled into her ear, his voice low and his fingers digging into her hip.

Feeling rather aroused by his bold handling of her body, Hermione simply shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck in order to steady herself.

"Good," Draco declared, landing a firm smack on the exposed skin of her bum cheek before smothering her surprised squeak with his mouth.

Unlike their encounter a few minutes before, this kiss felt like some sort of ritualistic battle for dominance. Draco's lips moved forcefully against her own, barely allowing her time to breath as he maneuvered them backwards and towards the edge of the small pool. Hermione barely registered the slight drop as he sat down against the stone, though the new position allowed her to gain purchase against the ground. With her knees coming to rest on either side of his hips, she allowed her body to rock recklessly against his, spurred on by the heady sensation between her legs.

Between the barely-there material of his transfigured trunks and the thin lace of her knickers, Hermione felt herself desperate to relieve the ache building inside her.

It was hard to see much of anything in the dark, but even in the light of the stars she could make out her own lust reflected in Draco's eyes, his silvery grey orbs flashing with emotion. She tried to squeeze impossibly closer to him, spurred on both by desire and by the cold January breeze that had begun to catch on the wet shirt she wore. She shivered as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, and she felt him let out a small moan as his fingers twitched against her waist.

Before she knew it, she was once again being lifted and spun, this time coming to settle on her back against the cool stone bordering the pool.

"Cold!" she cried breathlessly, arching her body away from the ground and pushing her breasts against his blanketing form.

" _Calentcaeli,_ " Draco rumbled, shocking Hermione with his wandless use of magic as hot air suddenly settled over them.

"I've been dying to get my hands on you all night," he growled against her neck, grinding his hips against her in a steady rhythm as one hand cushioned her head while the other trailed purposefully down her front.

"Please!" she gasped out, feeling increasingly out of control as his hand curled against the soft skin of her stomach. His mouth trailed down her collarbone to her shirt, his tongue boldly laving against her nipple poking through the wet cloth. "Oh god!"

Her plea seemed to be the tipping point for him, as he abruptly pulled back and sat up on his knees. Seconds later, Hermione felt his hands grip the bottom edges of her borrowed shirt, ripping the material apart and exposing her torso to the winter air. She knew she ought to feel mildly shy, but the combination of the relative darkness and the metaphorical 'heat' of the moment drove any thoughts of embarrassment clean away. She held her breath as he bent over her once more, his lips leaving a heated trail between her breasts before returning and capturing a taut peak, his tongue swirling firmly against one nipple while his fingers pinched and pulled at its twin.

The combined sounds of her moans and his eager mouth had her core burning, and she all but cried out as he slid a leg in between her own and pressed down firmly. Hermione's hands clutched at Draco's back, holding him to her as she writhed against his thigh, chasing the pressure that was building inside her. He moved his mouth back to hers, continuing to palm her breasts as she bucked wildly against him.

"Come on, Granger," he breathed against her lips, taking the lower one between his teeth and biting gently.

She closed her eyes, moaning as he shifted his leg more firmly between her thighs, and she knew she was on the brink.

With a muffled cry, Hermione felt her body tumble over the edge, her core sending toe-curling shockwaves pulsing outwards. Her eyes were clenched shut as she attempted to catch her breath, and when she was able to open them she saw Draco propped above her, his eyes bright as he stared down at her face. It was hard to read his expression in the dark, so she reached up a tentative hand to draw his face to her own and capture his lips in a loving, grateful kiss.

"Draco, that was—" she started.

"No more pills, Granger," he cut her off, giving her a pointed look and a smirk. "Oh, and happy New Year."

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 _Next chapter - Hermione goes back to Hogwarts!_


	31. Chapter 31

_Big thank you to everyone who reviewed my latest chapter, it absolutely makes my day to hear from you all and I'm so glad that a few people at least are still following along :-) This chapter is definitely a change in tone from the last one, but it's all part of the journey. Enjoy!_

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The steady feeling of the train rocking underneath her was a small comfort, and one that Hermione attempted to focus on to keep her mind from wandering into dangerous territory. The Hogwarts Express was returning students after the winter holiday, and as one of the only seventh years bothering to actually take the train, she had secured a compartment all to herself. She couldn't help but feel a bit of déjà vu from her trip at the start of term, though obviously the snow swirling outside the windows and blurring the landscape was a new addition.

She hadn't really planned to take the train back, but that morning she suddenly found herself packing her bags and bidding her parents a hasty goodbye, opting to apparate to Platform 9 ¾ instead of directly to Hogsmeade later that afternoon as planned. Other prefects had been put in charge of monitoring students on the trip back, so she and Draco had planned to just meet up at the castle later that afternoon. She hoped he wouldn't be too worried, and she'd be back soon enough in any event.

The lure of having several hours of uninterrupted peace was too good to pass up.

Hermione had been feeling numb ever since her latest check-up at St. Mungo's. Despite the fact that the actual appointment was three days ago, her mind was still reeling and her emotions felt fresh and raw. She had been bracing herself for bad news since Christmas, knowing that the delay in her follow up appointment had to spell trouble. Her parents had been acting very nonchalant about everything, trying to pretend that it was normal that they were getting the runaround with the test results. They hadn't even really commented when Hermione had returned from Blaise's New Year's party at 3:30 in the morning, leaving her to feel as though the whole family was walking on eggshells around each other as they awaited the verdict of her healers.

The news, though by that point expected, still left Hermione reeling. Her mother excused herself immediately, unable to hold it together in front of the team of healers. Hermione had only managed to stare blankly at first, her brain unable to process much of the information even as her father put on a brave face and started asking a series matter-of-fact and, she was sure, very important questions.

Not only was her cancer not responding to their treatments, but apparently it had spread to infect a greater percentage of her cells.

There was a tiny part of her that wanted to protest, tell them that they must be wrong and demand that they check their charts again. She didn't feel any different, maybe a bit more tired here and there but that seemed to be directly linked to the potions they had her on. Caught between the powerful impetus of fight or flight, Hermione remained frozen instead, barely processing the conversation taking place around her. There had been two new healers present for her appointment, a new specialist from Asia or someplace to help consult on her treatment plan, and a mind healer.

The mind healer was a middle aged man with greying dark hair and a kindly face. Just the sight of him made Hermione sick, as she knew with a fierce certainty that the situation must be dire if they were bringing someone in to manage her emotional state. _Arm you with the proper tools to manage the situation_ —that was the phrase that Healer Wenbrooke kept repeating ad nauseum. Hermione was sure this was simply code for _help you confront your own impending demise_ , but she figured it would be in poor taste to point that out.

The mind healer's name was Henry Salinger, _just Henry, please_ , and he had clearly been brought well up to speed on her case. After providing her with an overview of her new treatment plan—more frequent visits, stronger doses—he insisted that they sit down and discuss her plans for returning to school.

She wanted to hate him for all the things he represented, but his combined approach of being direct yet compassionate slowly earned her begrudging respect.

He opened bluntly, stating that his professional opinion would be that she not return to Hogwarts, and instead remain at home with her parents to receive more constant care and reduce any unnecessary stress. Hermione had reacted so viscerally to that suggestion that it had drawn a wry smile from him, as he hastened to add that there were other options available. He and healer Wenbrooke had apparently been consulting with McGonagall, and they had agreed that the best course of action, if she insisted on returning to school, would be for her to drop at least two classes and scale back on any extra curricular activities.

Hermione had been horrified, the thought of having to drop not just one but two classes was unthinkable, but the pair had been firm. She felt like she was losing a limb as it was eventually agreed that she would drop Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and that in exchange she'd be allowed to take her DADA N.E.W.T. early. She would also be required to scale back her duties as Head Girl, and by that point in the conversation Hermione had just been grateful that no one was suggesting she relinquish the position entirely.

She couldn't imagine what it would feel like to drop these classes, not to mention the fact that her classmates were bound to notice.

The conversation left her nauseous and panicky, and she all but sprinted out of the room as soon as the arrangements for her treatment had been finalized.

She stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express, wondering for the hundredth time since her appointment how she would explain things at school.

She had an appointment with Professor McGonagall later that evening once she got in, and at that reminder she pulled out a piece of parchment to begin jotting down a few notes of what she wanted to discuss. She was beginning to realize that the adults in her life were eager to see her scale back her activities as much as possible, and she decided the best offense would be a good defense, and she would go in prepared with recommendations in hand for how she would scale back her duties to an acceptable level. Neville could take over the planning for the Inter-School Extravaganza, he was already running most of that already and she trusted him to do a great job. Her Head Girl duties took up a significant chunk of time, but there would be less pressure if she dropped two classes, and she was sure that Draco would agree to take over a few of the more mundane managerial tasks.

Draco.

She hadn't said a word to him about the results of her appointment, simply providing him a cursory answer via owl when she got home from St. Mungo's and promising to talk more when they were both back at Hogwarts.

She wanted to both use him as a source of comfort at the same time that she wanted to shield him from the ugly reality. Their last encounter at the New Year's party had been so freeing and so exhilarating, and she desperately wished that their relationship could remain frozen in time at that moment, driven by an innocent mixture of youthfulness and hormones.

Before she knew it the train was pulling into the station, the grandeur of Hogwarts twinkling out at her in the darkness that felt both homey and mocking at the same time, as though somehow reminding her that she was here on borrowed time. She managed to avoid most of her classmates on the platform as she lugged Crookshanks up towards the castle and returned to the familiar comfort of the Head dorm.

She had been bracing herself to run into Draco, but it appeared that he was elsewhere for the time being though his return was clearly evidenced by his various possessions strewn about the area. Hermione made her was up the stairs to her room to find her magically-delivered trunk, quickly unpacking the few possessions she had brought home and a few new additions that had been gifts over the holidays. She had made a few new sketches while home, and these she carefully placed on her desk to be later added to her portfolio.

The thought of joining the rest of the school for dinner was distinctly unappealing, though logically she knew that that was most likely where Draco had gotten off to. Instead, she made her way to the library and tucked herself away in the back of the stacks, focused on continuing to prepare for her meeting with McGonagall and to begin outlining her study plan for taking her DADA N.E.W.T. sometime in the next month. Even the familiar smell of the old books brought her little comfort.

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"Good to see you in one piece, Princess."

Hermione was startled by Blaise's greeting as she returned to her dorm later that evening, thinking for moment that he must be referring to her illness before realizing that he must be teasing her about the last time she had seen him in person, during the wee hours of January 1st. She had been a bit wobbly on her feet by the time she and Draco had returned to their pile of clothes, and Blaise had slipped her a hangover potion before she flooed away, some lingering guests still going strong in the nearby ballroom.

"Hello, Blaise," she murmured, conjuring up a weak smile.

Her meeting with McGonagall had gone better than expected, though she still felt emotionally drained and knew her face still bore some tell-tale signs of crying.

"Granger."

She met Draco's warm smirk from across the room, and she watched as he used his wand to pour out two glasses of firewhiskey into a pair of fancy new tumblers. She felt relieved at the sight of him and quickly moved to wrap him in a hug. She caught him from behind, wrapping her arms across his chest as she burrowed her face against his back. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, suddenly feeling herself overcome with emotion at his familiar scent. He chuckled as he turned to give her a proper hug and she ducked her head, hoping to hide the tears pooling in her eyes.

"Miss me, Granger?" he teased, running a hand tenderly through her hair.

She finally pulled away after a few long seconds, surreptitiously wiping her eyes under the guise of adjusting her shoe.

"When did you get in?" she asked, moving over to hug Blaise as well.

"Around 2. Where were you?" Draco questioned, handing one of the tumblers to Blaise and pulling her down next to him on the couch.

"Oh, I, ummmm, I decided to take the train after all," she stated with a half-hearted laugh. "Thought it might be nice to experience one last time."

"Ugh, I bet the first years were all hopped up on sugar," Blaise shivered dramatically, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Must of been raucous."

"It wasn't that bad," she shrugged. "I had a lot on my mind, actually." That was probably the understatement of the year.

"Huh," Draco looked at her questioningly, and she rubbed at her cheeks self-consciously hoping that the redness in her eyes had gone down. "Is everything okay?"

She opened her mouth, completely prepared to offer some superficial remark, but nothing came out. She sat for a moment, frozen between both boys, and then without warning she was sobbing.

It felt completely humiliating, to be so out of control of her emotions. Her body spasmed as her lungs heaved for air, tears pouring rapidly down her face as she wrapped her arms across her body. She was vaguely aware of Blaise trying to say something to her, but before she could even attempt to decipher his words she felt Draco's arms come around her and pull her onto his lap. She turned, unthinking, to curl against him, clutching at his shirt as she attempted to stifle her sobs. Eventually she felt the couch shift and a hand came up to rub comforting circles against her back. Blaise, she assumed, confirmed by the soft murmurings in Italian that followed soon after.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed there, her sobs eventually calming as she felt the stress of the past few days begin to recede back inside of her. It was like a tidal wave had crashed through her, her inner turmoil spilling out and over and leaving a bunch of destruction in its wake.

She felt embarrassed at her display, barely able to get two words out before she had completely broken down.

Draco didn't protest as she made to stand, and both boys remained silent as she walked over to her bag to grab a tissue and wipe the gathered moisture from her face. She walked back over and returned to her position in Draco's lap, grateful when he immediately wrapped his arms back around her without question. She knew she'd have to say something eventually, she just didn't know where to start.

"Sor-rry," she croaked out, still not meeting their eyes.

"What happened, Princess?"

She sighed, attempting to sit up, though this time Draco seemed more reluctant to let her go. She ended up shifting around in his arms until she was able to face them both.

"My appointment at St. Mungo's didn't go as well as I'd like…"

She glanced up, catching Blaise's devastated look and Draco's stony mask, his face rigid. She allowed the guilt to flood through her in a quick flash before tamping it down, she could only deal with so much at once.

She didn't feel like hashing through all of the messy details right then, but she did manage to communicate the basics: the treatment wasn't working, she would have to drop some classes, and she'd be going to St. Mungo's once a week to receive treatment onsite. They didn't ask many questions, for which she was grateful. It would have been too hard, she could already feel her anxiety and anguish bubbling to the surface once more.

Blaise eventually left, promising that they would talk more the next day and that he would have breakfast with her. She gave him a teary hug goodbye and watched as Draco escorted him to the portrait hole, closing it behind him. She felt nervous all of sudden, being alone with him after everything she had just shared. She could well imagine what must be going through his head in that moment, as the same things had been swirling through her own for days now, months if she was truly honest. He stood by the door for a minute, sighing as he looked back over toward where she was sitting on the couch, his eyes seeming lost and far away.

"How were your last few days of break?" she finally asked, giving him a teary laugh in an attempt to break the heavy tension.

He gave a shell of a laugh in return, simply shaking his head before slowly walking back to join her.

"How about we go to bed, and we can talk about this more in the morning?" he offered.

She nodded, accepting his hand and allowing him to pull her off the couch. She followed him up the stairs, each disappearing into their own rooms to change before re-assembling in the bathroom. It was a bit atypical for them to be in the bathroom at the same time, and in fact Hermione often avoided joining him in there out of a sense of awkwardness of letting him watch her daily grooming routine. Her emotions were too fried to care that evening, and in fact she took a bit of comfort in watching the methodical way he brushed his teeth, providing her with an easy distraction to avoid staring at her own puffy face in the mirror.

When he made to follow her into her room she didn't protest, instead grabbing his hand and giving it a small squeeze in thanks. They didn't speak, simply crawling under her covers and extinguishing her lamp with a quick wave of her wand. She snuggled against him, sighing a bit at the light brush of his lips against hers in the dark.

"Hermione…" he whispered, and though she laid awake for a long time he never finished his sentence.

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The next week was certainly a tough one for Hermione. Despite having more time on her hands, she had taken to actively avoiding her classmates again, reminiscent of the start of the year. She just didn't want to face any of their questioning looks or idiotic rumors, sure that her absence from Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts had been noted. Blaise did manage to coax a bit of a smile out of her mid-week, telling her that she was much too self-involved and that nobody paid her any attention anyway. Lucky for Draco, she had firmly shutdown Blaise's offer to charm the blonde's hair a bright pink in order to distract the student body, but she appreciated the offer none the less.

She went to see Madame Pomfrey on the first day of the new term, not surprised to learn that the school mediwitch had been in close contact with her team of healers over the break. McGonagall had helped arrange for Hermione to use the floo in Madame Pomfrey's office, where she would go to St. Mungo's every Tuesday morning for treatment in addition to a regular appointment with Madame Pomfrey every Thursday afternoon. She had been warned that their new approach was very promising, but would take a bit of a greater toll on her body. She wasn't supposed to run in the mornings anymore, and she was told that she might get tired easily and need to sleep more. In churlish rebellion, Hermione found herself trying to stay up later and later, cramming in as much studying for her DADA N.E.W.T as possible and crashing on the couch in exhaustion amongst a pile of books.

She was a bit worried about Draco, as he had been a bit quiet all week since she spilled the news Saturday night. It wasn't that he had been withdrawn, just that he'd been busy, or so she told herself. She knew that he must be feeling incredibly stressed, having to captain two teams in addition to his Head Boy duties and a full course load. And now, he had to worry about her even more. She had convinced McGonagall that she could handle most of her Head Girl duties, agreeing that if need be she would assign her patrols to other people and let Draco liaise with Neville on the ISE project. Neville was a whole other question, and she found it harder and harder to put off his well-meaning questions about whether or not she was okay. She thought maybe she should just explain to him what was going on, but her emotions felt too raw and close to the surface right now.

By the time Friday morning rolled around she had deep bags under her eyes and knew she was drawing more than a few looks from her fellow Gryffindors, though most still refused to speak to her. Her body felt overly sensitive as she adjusted to the new treatments, and now that she only had one class on Friday she was just planning to grab a quick bite of toast before retreating once more to the library. She was halfway through spreading jam on a piece of bread when the morning post flew through, the owls swooping gracefully in between the four tables.

She jumped as a small white envelope landed in front of her, a tawny brown owl already soaring away before she could react. Expecting yet more bad news from St. Mungo's, she grabbed at the envelope with a shaky hand, ripping open the seal before she lost her nerve.

Instead of an official missive, all she could make out was a messy scrawl, unmistakable in its familiarity. Harry had finally written her back.


	32. Chapter 32

_Hello! Sorry for the delay in posting - this is a short chapter but I've been struggling through a bout of writer's block and wanted to get something out rather than nothing. A lot of the reviews from last chapter mentioned how emotional things are getting. Sorry (but not that sorry!) for all the feels! Things are definitely getting a bit more dire for our favorite character, but I promise that the remaining chapters won't be all doom and gloom._

 _Thanks as always to my lovely reviewers, your feedback is much appreciated!_

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Hermione abandoned her toast, the bread falling back to her plate with a dull _thunk_. She grasped at the small piece of parchment, her eyes taking in the single page and the messy scribbles that had become so familiar to her over the past seven years via the countless letters and last-minute essays.

 _Harry had written!_

She felt elated but also a bit shocked, half-convinced at this point that he was purposefully ignoring her. Of course, it was still possible that he was simply writing to tell her to bugger off, but she decided to hold on to hope as she quickly gathered up her things and headed out of the dining hall.

Instead of heading straight for the library she made a detour, peeling off into a small alcove guarded by a rusting suit of armor. She dropped her bag and slid to the floor, eagerly pulling out the note once more.

There wasn't much to it, in the end, but she clung to every word.

He was okay, though he didn't mention where he was, and implied that he was glad to hear from her. He said that he had missed the Christmas festivities, but was glad to have some time away from "things". Hermione bit her lip as she read that part, having an all too good idea of what these _things_ were. He said that he missed Quidditch, missed the house elves' treacle tart, and missed…the last part was crossed out enough times to have become illegible. Missed Ginny? Missed Ron? Missed her?

Perhaps he was going stir crazy enough to miss his schoolwork, she thought with a laugh, though she grimaced a second later as she remembered how angry she was herself at being forced out of a few classes.

The note trailed off after that. He didn't mention the reason for his absence, seemingly taking the cue from her letter to him that she was privy to the details of his situation. She wondered, not for the first time, whether he knew that it had been her who turned him in. If so, she wondered whether he was angry or grateful, his letter giving practically nothing away.

She read back through the note, once and then twice more, desperately trying to glean any small detail she might have missed as to where he was or what he might be feeling. Her excitement at receiving the letter had dimmed somewhat, though she tried to throw off her disappointment and concentrate on the fact that he had finally written back. Twenty minutes later and after her butt had gone fully numb from her position sitting on the stone floor of the passageway, she pulled herself up and headed back off toward the library, determined to write him back.

She didn't want to scare him off, so she worked hard to keep it light. She wrote steadily over the course of the next hour, quickly filling up three pieces of parchment back and front with inane but detailed descriptions of the castle and its occupants, only stopping when it was time to leave for class. Unsurprisingly, she found it difficult to concentrate on the lecture, choosing instead to make a quick sketch of Professor McGonagall, standing at the front of the classroom, to include in her note to Harry. She put the finishing touches on during lunch, making no mention of rehab but being sure to convey that she would be happy to send him anything he might need. She hesitated, just stopping herself from asking whether he was still at St. Mungo's. Since he had finally made contact, a part of her wanted to track him down the next time she was at the hospital, confirm with her own eyes that he was really okay.

She knew, however, that this was too much, too soon. She settled instead for sneaking a bit of treacle tart into a magically conjured container, adding a stasis spell for good measure, and then sending letter and package off from the owlery. She watched the school bird slowly disappear in the distance, her breath swirling in a fog in the cold January air.

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By the time the evening arrived she was feeling properly worn down. Because of the letter from Harry, she had fallen behind in her self-imposed study schedule and had been struggling to regain her focus all afternoon. She completely blew past dinner, remaining hunkered in a far corner of the library as she poured over a particularly large and dusty tome, frantically copying down notes.

A headache was slowing gaining ground, and she frowned down at her papers as the muted sound of other voices reached her through the stacks. It seemed that with O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s fast approaching, Hermione wasn't the only one wanting to cram in extra hours in the library.

"Thought I might find you here."

Hermione startled at the sudden voice, banging her knee gracelessly against the wooden table.

" _Ow_ ," she mumbled, rubbing at the bruise as she looked up to face her boyfriend. "It's not that impressive, you helped me draft my study schedule after all," she reminded him pointedly, even as she smiled in greeting.

"That I did," Draco agreed, leaning over the table to brush his lips quickly against hers. Hermione felt a thrill pulse through her as he sat in the seat across from her, realizing just how much she had been missing him the past week.

"That's how I know," he continued calmly, "that you are now five minutes late for patrolling."

"What?" Hermione gasped, horrified that she could have been so careless as to lose track of time. She cast a quick _tempus_ spell, paling as the golden numbers twisted to report the time as 8:06. "I've got to go," she mumbled, quickly grabbing her papers and shoving them in her bag. "I was supposed to meet…" she trailed off, wracking her brain to remember who her patrol partner was to be that evening and where she was supposed to have met him.

"Me," finished Draco, smirking at her calmly from across the table.

" _Merlin,"_ Hermione groaned, a faint flush of embarrassment stealing across her face as she immediately remembered telling him she'd meet him in their common room two days earlier when they had set the schedule. They didn't often patrol together and she had been excited to spend some time with him, hoping to dispel the nagging feeling she'd had all week that he'd been acting a bit distant. And then there she went, completely forgetting about rounds.

She sunk back into the chair she had just vacated, hiding her face with her hands as she let out a second groan.

"Come on, then," Draco laughed, getting to his feet and holding a hand out to help her up. "The fun won't stop itself, you know."

Hermione sighed, still mentally castigating herself as she accepted the proffered hand.

"Let me just run my bag up to our room, I can meet you on the 3rd floor," she offered, magically floating the textbook she'd been using back to a nearby shelf.

"Nah, we can just drop it on the way," he said, reaching to take the bag from her. "It'll be a good workout for me, lugging your notes all over the castle," he teased, making an exaggerated grimace at the weight of her bag.

"Thank you. And, sorry," she added, softly squeezing his hand as they exited the library. She knew he didn't care about the weight of her bag, but she felt bad that he had had to come find her.

"Don't worry about it, Granger," he turned to smile down at her. "Oh, and here," he paused, fishing something out of his robes to hand to her. "Dinner."

Hermione smiled, accepting the large apple with two hands. "Thanks."

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The patrol was going rather smoothly for a Friday night.

Of course, most of the trouble makers didn't come out until later in the evening, as Hermione herself well recalled from her own misadventures in the castle. She liked having the first shift, meaning she only had to patrol at 8:00 and 10:00, switching off with a second pair of Prefects in between. She and Draco moved methodically through the floors of the castle, stopping briefly at their own dorm to drop off her bag and once again at the kitchens to nab a few more snacks to replace Hermione's skipped meal.

She had tried to protest at first, not wanting to bother the house elves, but the stern look on Draco's face had immediately ended any arguments she'd planned on making. She felt the guilt following her through the castle, remembering the way he hadn't quite met her eyes as he'd muttered "You need to keep up your health, Granger."

Despite that interlude, the conversation stayed mostly light.

Hermione couldn't help but pester Draco about what she was now missing in their Charms and DADA classes, and he in turn made the week's lessons sound as boring and inane as he possibly could. Accepting that he'd never agree to share his notes with her, they instead gossiped a bit about the Prefects. At the weekly meeting the day before it had become apparent that one of the 6th year Hufflepuffs had started dating a 5th year Gryffindor, and now they had to debate whether or not it was appropriate to schedule them for the same patrols. Hermione thought it would be fine.

"They're Prefects!" she argued, following Draco up one of the moving staircases. "They know what their responsibilities are, and I think we should trust them to act professionally."

"Don't be so naïve!" Draco countered, laughing. "How do you think they got together in the first place? They were doing Tuesday patrols together all last semester, they've probably just been spending all that time snogging in the dungeons!"

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes. "Your Slytherin is showing. Why would anyone voluntarily make out down in those drafty dungeons? Gryffindors much prefer the Astronomy tower," she declared, speaking authoritatively from all the house gossip she'd been subjected to over the years.

"Is that so?" Draco teased, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at her. "And who have you been snogging in the Astronomy tower, Granger?"

"Nobody, which is my point exactly. If _we_ can be trusted to patrol together, then it would be hypocritical to apply a different set of standards to the Prefects," she finished, returning his smirk with a satisfied one of her own.

"Ah, so now we're getting to the heart of it," he declared, leading them in the familiar path through the East wing of the sixth floor.

"The heart of what?" she asked, confused and just a bit suspicious.

"You're mad that we've never snogged in the Astronomy tower," he stated, shrugging his shoulders as though to indicate the obviousness of his statement.

"Yeah righ— _ahhh_!" He moved quickly, cutting off her protest and swinging her body back against the hard stone wall. His body moved in close to hers, hands coming up to grip her hips and head coming down to fasten his lips against her neck.

Her heart was racing from the surprise and the sensation, as she valiantly tried to stifle the moan threatening to escape her mouth. She surrendered her head to lean back against the wall, drinking in the sight of his head bent over her, hair glowing in the flickering light of the torches. He was sucking on the pulse point of her neck, a particularly sensitive area for her, while at the same time one of his hands snaked upwards to thread through her hair.

"What are you—ah—what are you doing?" she panted, at the same time as her hands involuntarily curled around his biceps, holding him to her.

"I thought that was fairly obvious?" he said, pulling away to momentarily roll his eyes at her before switching to the other side of her neck.

"This isn't the Astronomy Tower," she protested, trying to mentally gather the will to push him away. It was barely 8:45 after all, and curfew was 9:00 on the weekends.

"It's not," Draco agreed, his lips trailing steadily lower to reach the edge of her shirt. "But I know for a fact the Ravenclaws frequent this area. I figure we might as well test out all the spots, the dungeons in particular are better than you might think," he pulled back for a quick wink.

"This is totally inappropriate," she whispered, her voice laced with lust even to her own ears.

"Oh, and the Prefects' Bath," Draco continued, ignoring her. "We wouldn't be self-respecting head students if we didn't abuse our power to fool around in there…"

"We have our own common room, Draco," she argued, at the same time that she pulled him closer. "Why would we need to—"

He pulled away from her abruptly, a triumphant smirk marring his face.

"That sounds like an invitation if I ever heard one, Granger."

Hermione groaned, pushing him halfheartedly away as she leaned further back against the wall. Three inches wasn't a lot of space, but it was certainly easier to keep her head when he wasn't pressed against her so intimately.

"Let's just finish our patrol, yeah?"

Draco moved away without a word, holding a hand out to pull her off the wall and back along the passageway. She was secretly pleased when he kept his hand in hers, lacing their fingers as they continued along. After being apart for most of the break and the hectic hours they were keeping now back at school, she found herself physically and emotionally missing her boyfriend. Her body was still thrumming from the brief interlude against the wall, even as her mind skittered back over the uneasy feeling she'd been having all week that something was off.

Draco had become so important to her in such a short time, but any time she thought too hard about the situation her brain just shut down out of self-preservation. _Something to bring up with the new mind healer_ , she mused, shuddering a bit at the thought of opening that particular can of worms.

They proceeded mostly in silence, encountering no one as they advanced to the seventh and final floor of the castle. Hermione leaned up against the wall outside the boy's bathroom, waiting for Draco to emerge from the standard check. She closed her eyes, thinking about how tired she was.

"Panny for your thoughts?"

She blinked her eyes open, surprised to see him in front of her again so suddenly and wondering if she hadn't momentarily fallen asleep.

"Penny," she corrected him automatically.

"Penny," he repeated. "That's the lowest denomination of muggle currency, right? Seems like a poor exchange for something as valuable as your thoughts. I'm rich, I'll give you a galleon," he declared imperiously. "10 if you let me drag you back to the dungeons."

Hermione stuck her tongue out in response, laughing at the rich-boy persona that he so rarely flaunted in front of her these days.

"I'm just tired, I guess," she offered, unwilling to lay her complicated thoughts bare as they wandered the drafty castle.

He seemed to accept this, allowing them to lapse back into an easy silence as he pulled her gently in against his side. She sighed, feeling relatively content as she allowed herself to relax against him slightly.

"I've been distant, lately," Draco finally said, staring straight ahead as he broke the silence.

Hermione tensed, heart sinking. It was a lot harder to convince herself that she was imagining things when he was confessing. She pulled away from him a bit, wrapping her arms against her stomach even as she kept pace with his steps.

"Oh," she finally managed, not sure what else she was supposed to say.

"I'm sorry about it," he continued, still not looking at her though she saw that his jaw was tensed. "I probably should have started with that," he admitted ruefully, running a hand through his blonde hair. Absently, Hermione noted it was getting a bit long. "It's just…" he gestured vaguely with his hand, seemingly encompassing everything and nothing as his voice trailed off.

"I know," she agreed quietly, focusing her eyes on her feet as they continued to walk along. She didn't need him to say anything to know the thoughts that must be running through his head. They were the same thoughts that had been running through her own for months, albeit from a different perspective.

Neither of them said a thing as they trailed their way through the rest of the seventh floor, eventually hitting one of the towers and making a quick, perfunctory pass to search for any stragglers. It wasn't until they had reached the back staircase that marked the end of their route that Hermione attempted to continue their conversation.

"Did I tell you I'm seeing a mind healer?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. Seeing him shake his head out of the corner of her eye, she pressed on. "It's part of my new treatment plan. This guy from St. Mungo's, grief specialist," her voice caught on the last part, and she felt her eyes well with unbidden tears that she quickly blinked away. She'd only had one appointment with the guy so far, but even their initial 'get to know you session' had left her raw. She bit at the inside of her cheek to drive the emotion out of her voice.

After a few steps, Draco finally spoke up.

"Do you think it will help?" His voice was outwardly calm, though she could see his hands were clenched into fists.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I've only had the one appointment."

Draco nodded, reaching out to once again grab her hand as they continued down the stairs and back to the fourth floor. The silence remained, more strained than the easy camaraderie they had enjoyed before, and Hermione tried unsuccessfully to mentally drive out all the things they weren't saying, but clearly both were thinking.


	33. Chapter 33

_It's been less than a month since my last posting - huzzah! Hope everyone enjoys :-)_

* * *

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

Hermione casually glanced up from her notes to see whether the spell had been successful, returning her gaze to her lap at seeing the familiar swirl of barely-there silver mist emitting from the dark wand.

"Looks like it's getting stronger!" she called out kindly, though secretly she felt that the small cloud of mist looked exactly the same as it had for the last hour. Still, she was sure a little encouragement couldn't hurt.

"What a bloody useless spell!" Blaise moaned, collapsing to the ground in an overly dramatic fashion, his arm flung across his face.

"That's the spirit," Draco called over, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He was standing a few feet from Hermione's perch against one of the willows along the Great Lake. She watched as he too attempted the spell, producing a feeble sputter of mist that may well have been the condensation from his breath. She looked away hurriedly, wanting to lessen any pressure her presence was causing.

"For the love of—"

She tried to hide her smile behind her notes as she listened to the string of expletives currently spewing from her boyfriend's mouth.

The trio had been outside for a number of hours, taking advantage of their mastery of warming spells so they could use the lake as a safe place to practice the more advance defensive spells. Hermione was scheduled to take her DADA N.E.W.T in just over two weeks and, needing a break from rote memorization, they'd headed outdoors for a bit of dueling. Blaise hadn't been willing to go up against her, to Hermione's complete exasperation, but Draco had proven a good partner for a while. He was extremely talented with his wand, though as Hermione had quickly pointed out many of his spells weren't strictly "regulation". It wasn't long before they both ended up with minor wounds, and Blaise, sensing their competitive sides rearing up, quickly convinced them to give it a rest.

Dueling wasn't strictly part of the exam, in any event. They decided it would be prudent to run through some of the more complicated spells rumored to be on the practical exam, sending waves of magic spiraling across the dark water and drawing more than a few looks from the other students braving the crisp January air. Hermione had no problem with any of the spells, though by nature she felt driven to try executing them more powerfully and memorize extra and obscure incantations, just in case.

She'd finished off a round of spells by conjuring a patronus, her industrious otter leaping from her wand to scurry along the lake, investigating every rock and tree with curious abandon. She had watched it for several minutes before it faded, surprised when she turned back and saw the amazed faces of her companions. After 5th year and Dumbledore's Army she'd become so used to all her friends being able to conjure a patronus that she'd forgotten it wasn't part of the standard Hogwarts curriculum. Both boys had been insistent that she teach them, but neither had come close to a corporeal form in the hour of practice since.

She wasn't sure if it was their mindset or her lack of teaching skills, but she was prepared to call it a lost cause, for that afternoon at least.

"Am I holding my wand correctly?" Draco called over, still standing by the water.

Hermione bit her lip, looking him over objectively and taking in his rigid posture, the clench of his jaw and the few beads of sweat that had collected near his brow.

"Maybe you should both come take a quick break?" she suggested diplomatically, concluding that he didn't look like a man at the verge of a breakthrough.

While Draco stubbornly turned his focus back to the water, Blaise quickly picked himself off the ground and came to sit next to her, holding his hands out to the cache of bluebell flames in a glass jar tucked near her feet.

"Here," she handed over the large thermos she'd been nursing, full of rich hot chocolate she'd filched from the morning spread. Grabbing her wand, she quickly reinforced the warming spell to accommodate the extra body.

"Sorry I'm not better at this whole thing," she gestured vaguely to where Draco was still standing. "Harry was always the one who could teach, I suppose I'm just not explaining it properly."

"Eh, it's hard to feel properly happy when you're freezing your bollocks off," he winked at her, tugging on the blanket wrapped around her legs in an attempt to claim some for himself.

"I thought all you rich boys would have some sort of fancy underwear with warming charms built in," she teased.

"Now _there's_ a good idea," he agreed. "Though Princess, I'm a bit disappointed that you don't know more about what Drakey there has got underneath his trousers."

Hermione blushed as his accompanying laughter carried over, attracting Draco's attention.

"Stop distracting me!" he reprimanded them, causing them both to roll their eyes in response.

"It's laughter, D!" Blaise called over. "That is the very embodiment of happiness! We're just trying to help!"

Hermione pretended to ignore the rude hand gesture pointed back their way, smiling lightly at the boys' antics. She turned back to glance at her notes, though admittedly her brain wasn't in it anymore. The pair lapsed into silence, broken by Draco's occasional attempts to cast the spell.

"So, why an otter?" Blaise eventually asked. "You have a particular affinity for carnivorous, aquatic mammals?"

"Actually," she couldn't help the way her voice immediately kicked into lecture mode, "not all otters are aquatic. There are actually thirteen different species, and not all of them are fully aquatic. Some species have been classified as semiaquatic, meaning they—"

"Okay, okay, okay, I take it back," Blaise reached over, attempting to cover her mouth and stifle her words.

"Hands off my girlfriend, B," Draco joked, coming to join them in a huff of defeat.

Hermione pried away Blaise's hand, sticking her tongue out at him as she simultaneously stole back the thermos to hand to Draco.

"As I was saying," she continued, "the otter is actually part of the weasel family according to Muggles' scientific classification system, and—"

"Wait." This time, it was Draco who broke in. "Are you telling me that your patronus, the embodiment of your hope and happiness, is a type of _weasel_?"

She frowned, knowing where he would be going with this.

"It's not like that means anything on some grand level…"

"Weasel. As in _Weasley_ , the Weasel-King, and all of his weaselly family." Draco was giving her a hard look while Blaise snickered, and she felt her exasperation spike.

"Is there some sort of accusation in there?" she asked icily, raising an eyebrow in warning, satisfied when his eyes flashed to hers in apology. "Besides. As I recall, you spent a fair amount of time as a _literal_ ferret in fourth year, perhaps my patronus is just manifesting in solidarity."

That earned a hearty guffaw from Blaise.

"Princess, please tell me you have a drawing somewhere of D as a ferret."

She tried to keep her face neutral, but at Draco's horrified look she knew she had been unsuccessful.

"We'll talk later," she whispered to Blaise conspiratorially, losing her composure as Draco pounced on her, moving to tickle her ribs in a transparent act of coercion to let some things remain in the past.

The scuffle quickly came to an end, and the trio went silent again as Draco fished around in his bag to produce a flask, gesturing that he meant to add it to the thermos. They passed the hot chocolate back and forth for a while, Hermione grimacing a bit at the lingering burn of the liquor.

"We've got to be doing something wrong," Draco eventually commented, looking out at the water. "What memory are you using?" This, he directed at Hermione.

"Well," she frowned, "it's not a memory, exactly. Not anymore, at least not in the sense that I am replaying a specific scene in my brain. Everyone does it a bit differently, I'm sure, though it's a pretty personal thing," she looked down, using her finger to draw a pattern in the snow. "I had to try a bunch of different things to get it right."

"Let me guess! You think about the library, right?" Blaise smirked at her, to which she scowled in response.

"I'll admit, I did _try_ that at one point…" She cut herself off at the laughter of her companions.

"What!?" she pouted. "The library is a perfectly reasonable option! It's warm, and smells like old parchment, and is full of so many amazing books, and for a muggle-born—"

"Don't try and pawn off your love of books on your lack of magical heritage," Draco teased, pulling her in against him to show that he meant well. "I've seen photographic evidence that you've always been a little bookworm."

Hermione blushed, remembering that he had seen the pictures her parents kept up in the living room, one of which showed her on her first day of primary school, a stack of books needlessly clutched in her arms.

"In any regard," she continued, a bit miffed, "that memory didn't work for me. I think about Hogwarts. Not about a single time really, but just the moment when you get off the train and you can see the towers rising up, and it smells like rock and water and earth…"

She trailed off, not sure how to describe it. She had worried, a few weeks ago, whether or not the memory would still work. Hogwarts hadn't exactly been the refuge this year that it always had been, and with everything happening she was worried that her anxiety might have tainted the pure feeling of joy that she usually called up. She'd practiced just the other night, sneaking out to the balcony in the Head dorm when she couldn't sleep. She'd cast her otter out over the grounds, immensely relieved when the familiar shape burst out of her wand, powerful and feisty as ever.

Both boys seemed to be pondering her description.

"That's good to know," Blaise finally said. "I've been thinking about—"

"Stop!" Draco cut in. "We don't need to know the details of what goes on in your head."

Hermione laughed, secretly agreeing that whatever Blaise had been using as his memory, it was sure to be graphic.

"Suit yourself," Blaise winked, not offended in the least. "What about you? What memory are you using?"

Hermione craned her head to look up at Draco, equally curious to hear his response.

"Clearly not the right one," he shrugged, declining to elaborate.

"At least you can do one," Blaise continued. "Feeling ready for the exam?"

Hermione shrugged. She knew, objectively, that she was well prepared for the material. Her studious nature and experience in the war set her above the average student, and she'd been doggedly studying since returning to school.

"You're ready," Draco declared, giving her a small squeeze in support.

"I agree," Blaise said. "So much so, in fact, that I think we should turn our attention to the celebration! How do you want to mark the occasion?"

 _Typical Blaise_ , Hermione thought, mentally rolling her eyes as she grabbed for the thermos of hot chocolate to avoid having to answer.

"Come on," he needled, moving his leg over to nudge hers. "Do you really want to leave me to my own devices on this? You know what happens when I'm not reined in."

This earned a shudder from her. She did indeed know what happened when left to his own devices. Besides, she actually did have some idea of what she wanted to do.

"Well…"

"That's the spirit!" Blaise interrupted her, pumping his fist in the air in exaggerated excitement. She ignored him, turning her head to address Draco instead.

"I was thinking maybe it would be a good time to pull the trigger on my tattoo."

"Tattoo?!" Blaise sounded equally astounded and excited.

She ignored him, watching Draco's face to see what his reaction would be. They hadn't really talked about it much since she'd given him that drawing at Christmas. He'd seemed intrigued at the time, after she'd clarified that she was not, in fact, disparaging his Dark Mark. It _seemed_ like he was open to the idea of getting one, but seeming open and actually committing to getting one was a different story. At the very least, she hoped he would agree to come and hold her hand, she really was a big chicken when it came to needles and pain.

Draco grinned down at her, looking excited.

"Yeah?" he asked. "Just name the place and time, Granger."

She smiled, snuggling back against him a bit.

"Hold up," Blaise broke in. "You two are in cahoots on this? This is the first time I'm hearing about a tattoo. I thought it was understood that I must be consulted on all decision-making, it's for the good of the many."

"Please," Hermione scoffed, giving him a look. "The less involvement you have in my life decisions, the better."

"I'm hurt," he mock-pouted. She threw a handful of snow at him, quickly holding up her wand to prevent retaliation. Draco chuckled.

"Do share then," Blaise pressed, picking up his own wand to cast a shield charm and deter any further snowballs from coming his way.

"It's just something I've been thinking about," she shrugged. "Have you made up your mind about getting one?" she asked Draco.

"I'm in," he assured her immediately.

"You're getting one too?" This time, Blaise's pout seemed more genuine. "Where'd my invitation go?"

"The more the merrier," Hermione smiled. "Don't you already have a few, though?"

Her mind flashed involuntarily back to the time when he had stripped in front of her, apparently angling for a nude portrait. She had tried to wipe the event from her mind, but some images could not be unseen.

"Always room for more! What are you getting? More importantly, _where_ are you getting it?" His voice dropped a bit at the end, lending the question an air of lewdness.

She scowled at his tone, though shivered as she felt Draco's breath brushed against the back of her neck. "I'm a bit curious about that myself," he whispered lowly into her ear.

"I haven't exactly decided," she tried to keep her face free from the spike of arousal she felt at Draco's words. "I'm thinking of something really simple. Maybe just a small triangle."

"A triangle?"

"Yeah. Just a simple geometric one. I thought it could represent the three sides of me: muggle, witch, woman…" she shrugged, feeling a bit embarrassed for some reason.

"I vote you make it a square, and add sex goddess to the list. It's important to set goals—ahhh!"

His shields were no match against the wall of snow she sent his way.

dhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhdhd

They made their way back to the castle, Blaise still grumbling about the occasional patch of snow melting and dripping under his coat.

She separated from the boys, going to join Luna and Neville at the Ravenclaw table. The warm food felt good after being outdoors for so long, and she wondered briefly at the wisdom of having stayed in the cold all afternoon, essentially inviting a cold to set in. Madam Pomfrey had warned her that she might be more susceptible to disease under her new treatment plan, and Hermione made a mental note to take a Pepper Up potion after dinner to stave off any oncoming illness.

Conversation flowed easily, though Hermione did feel more than a little guilty at having to lie by omission. She had decided that it was high time to inform Neville and Luna about her _situation_ , for lack of a better term. Neville had of course noticed her absence from Charms and DADA, though he'd mostly kept his curiosity to himself it would seem. It felt wrong though, to not say anything. Though she tried her hardest not to think about it, her new mind healer had been encouraging her to build out her support network, using the annoying approach of asking leading questions about _what would happen if X,_ and _how would she feel if her friend was going through Y similar situation_ , etc.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, not wanting to fall into a morose mood in front of her friends.

Luna was talking about her father's latest article for the _Quibbler_ , something about a big Ministry conspiracy involving the price of hemlock, a key ingredient in several popular at-home remedy potions, Hermione knew. She nodded along where appropriate, feeling only slightly guilty when her thoughts began to drift once more.

She'd been thinking a lot about Harry that afternoon, what with all the defensive spells they'd been practicing. She'd received two more letters from him in the past week, neither any richer in length or substance from the first, but still it was something. She couldn't make up her mind whether she felt encouraged or discouraged, idly wondering whether his quick response rate was a reflection of his interest in writing to her or a mere indication of his boredom with wherever he was. He still hadn't said much, but she did gather that he was no longer at St. Mungo's full time. She wondered how often he was required to go in, wondered if his visits ever overlapped with hers. Wondered how he would respond if she suggested they meet up one of these days…

"Hermione?"

She blinked, surprised by the sudden mention of her name.

"Huh?" she blinked, seeing that Luna was looking at her expectantly.

"Do you agree?"

She quickly weighed her options—would it be better to pretend she'd been listening, or admit that she'd drifted off?

"I…I think I got lost somewhere along the way. Sorry, Luna," she hurried to add.

Luna shrugged, nonchalant as ever and seemingly completely unbothered.

"Everything okay, Hermione?" Neville asked, looking across at her in concern. "You seem a little distracted lately."

"I'm fine, just my studies getting a bit on top of me." This was not the time or place for the conversation she needed to have. "Speaking of, I could use a break this evening. Are you both free? I was thinking of watching a movie with Draco and Blaise, you should join!"

It was true that they'd been planning to hang out and watch a film tonight, the Slytherins had become total addicts, but she wasn't sure how they'd feel about her including others in their little tradition. Neville and Luna both seemed eager, having seldom been exposed to Muggle technology, so Hermione told them to stop by the Head dorm in half an hour, making her way over to the Slytherin table to inform the boys of the new plan.

"Hey," she greeted them, nodding at Derrick and Pansy who were sitting next to Draco and Blaise for the meal.

"Hey," Draco greeted her in return, giving her a smile but refraining from any other form of greeting. They tried to keep the PDA to an absolute minimum around the castle.

"Do you two want to join for a movie tonight?" she directed this towards Pansy and Derrick, hoping the invite didn't sound as unnatural as it felt. She was somewhat used to hanging around with Derrick at this point, but it still seemed a bit surreal to her that she was willing inviting Pansy Parkinson to a social event.

"A movie?" Pansy frowned, looking confused. "What's that?"

"You've mentioned those," Derrick turned to Blaise to confirm. "It's that Muggle moving picture thingie, like a photograph?"

"Sort of," Hermione had learned it was easier to show wizards muggle technology instead of trying to explain it. "It's like a portrait that shows a play. We were going to watch one this evening, if you want to join. I invited Neville and Luna, as well," she whispered to Draco, and she saw his eyebrows raise in understanding.

"I suppose," Pansy drawled, managing to sound simultaneously intrigued and as though she were doing the lot of them a huge favor by deigning to attend. "Where?"

"The Head dorm," Hermione responded. "Half an hour?"

With everyone agreed, Hermione retreated to the stairs, wanting to make sure the place was clean and to spend some time with Crookshanks before company arrived.

It was weird having so many people in the dorm, though she had to admit that the evening was going surprisingly well. Pansy had only been fifteen minutes late, Luna had brought some sort of odd snack that she claimed was all the rage in Transylvania right now, and Neville had proven surprisingly knowledgeable when it came to the proper way to drink Firewhiskey. Though the boys outnumbered the girls, Hermione managed to convince Blaise that they out to go for a romantic comedy over an action movie that evening, less to explain that way she figured and she was in the mood for something sappy. Trial and error had taught her it was hard to watch a comedy with wizards, as much of the humor went straight over their heads. Something to build towards, she figured.

They agreed to pause the movie on occasion, Hermione attempting to clarify small parts that were culture specific. Mostly the newcomers seemed nonplussed by the technology, Neville had actually watched a few with her before, but Pansy remained wide-eyed and captivated the entire time.

The film ended a little after ten, the group falling into easy conversation after the obligatory debrief of the movie. It was...fun. Enjoyable. Even the part where they had to listen to every excruciating detail of Pansy's upcoming wedding, still over a year away but apparently requiring considerable energy to plan.

Hermione caught herself drifting off at one point, eventually excusing herself when Neville and Luna made their exit, deciding that a shower and bed were in order. She left Draco to continue drinking with his housemates, glad that he seemed so relaxed and in good spirits.

Crookshanks followed her into the bathroom, apparently wanting to take advantage of the opportunity to keep his fur properly moisturized. She decided to take her time, luxuriating in the piercing heat of the water and the resulting sensation of being in a mini, personal steam room. She washed her hair, exfoliated her skin, shaved her legs, and basically used any excuse she could to prolong her shower. Her body had been more sore than usual, what with the new potions she was on, and the shower felt good.

She eventually emerged when her skin went from mildly-pruney to full on raisin, smiling when she saw her half-kneazle now asleep and sprawled out shamelessly on his back.

She continued to take her time, wrapping her body in her robe as she applied a potion to her hair that supposedly helped it air dry with less frizz, though she wasn't yet convinced. She was just starting to moisturize her skin when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Granger?"

She paused in what she was doing, going over to admit her boyfriend.

"Hey."

"Hey," he gave her a quick once over. "I kinda need to use the loo."

"Right," she smiled, gesturing him in. "I was just finishing up. Is everyone still downstairs?"

"Nah, they headed back to the dungeons," he replied, trading places with her as she moved out into the hallway. "Derrick can't hold his liquor."

"It's way past curfew, anyway," she reminded him through the closed door, shuffling down the hallway a bit to pass the time. She didn't want to just wait outside the door while he used the restroom. The door popped open a minute later.

"Sorry," he said, letting her back in. "Are you trying to turn our bathroom into a rainforest, by the way? If so, you're off to a good start."

"I like my water hot!" she defended, moving back inside to where she'd left her tube of lotion.

"Can't blame you there. Mind if I stay?" he asked, perching himself along the edge of the tub. "It's so much warmer in here, it's nice."

"Sure," she nodded, picking the lotion back up but feeling uncertain now that he seemed to be staying. It made her temperature rise, even in the already-hot room, to think that he was staring at her as she moved through the standard routine.

"Sorry I'm not a very good teacher," she offered, feeling compelled to make conversation if he was going to be there. "I'm sure you'll get your patronus down in no time, perhaps we ought to stop by the library tomorrow and look up some pointers."

He shrugged, seeming infinitely less bothered by his failure than he had been earlier that day.

"You were probably just tired, it's a pretty draining spell. Especially when you're first trying to learn it."

He shrugged again. "I wasn't using the right memory."

"Possibly," she agreed, turning away from him a bit to focus on her task. "You should try out some other ones next time. But you have to be careful, you don't want to make the mistake of switching between them too fast, you need to give it enough of a try to ensure that you're capturing the emotion properly, or else you'll just keep flitting from memory to memory without addressing the underlying problem."

"I'm not worried. I have a plan."

"Oh?" She looked up again as she continued to rub lotion along her right arm. "What's that?"

"I'm just going to create a new one."

Her mouth went dry as her mind went over his words, taking in the growing glint in his eyes.

"H-how are you going to do that?" She'd abandoned the lotion, body going still as she watched him.

"Well," he began, rising to his feet and moving towards her casually. "I thought I might start by imagining all the different possibilities for where you might get that tattoo."

Hermione breathed in deeply, her eyes falling shut as he closed the distance between them, a single finger coming up to gently run the length of her exposed collarbone. She kept her eyes closed, breath picking up speed as she felt the finger dip teasingly under the collar of her robe, moving whisper-soft to trace along the curve of her shoulder.

"Here?" His voice was husky and low, sending a shiver down her spine.

She shook her head, peering up at him from beneath her eyelashes. His eyes were fixated on his task, following the path his finger was tracing back along her shoulder and up to her neck. She let out a soft moan, tilting her head to the side as a second finger joined the exploration, moving delicately up her neck to her hairline before slowly tracking down her spine.

"Here?" His thumb came up to draw a circle against her upper back, the contact echoing through her body despite the barely-there pressure.

Hermione shook her head again, confident that if she tried to speak her voice would give her away. Her hands came forward to clutch the edge of the sink as he shifted his body around to come behind her. He curved his hand around to cup the back of her head, while his other arm came around her side, his finger dipping inside the loose tie of her robe to brush against her right hipbone.

"Maybe here?" Draco had bent his head to whisper in her ear, and Hermione could feel her legs beginning to tremble at the obvious seduction her boyfriend was carrying out.

Things had gotten a little hot and heavy since their return to school, though in reality the two had been busy and other than an enjoyable snogging session last week after their patrols, things really hadn't progressed that much. But here he was, touching her oh so softly as she stood in nothing but her robe, her skin soft and pliant from the hot water of her shower, feeling abuzz with nerve endings.

His finger traced a circle against her hip as he stepped in closer. His sheer physical presence, at times a comfort, now felt erotic and full of suggestive promise. She could feel the hard bulge of his manhood pressed against the small of her back, and she teetered for a moment between leaning away or leaning back against him.

"May-maybe my wrist?" she breathed out, barely managing the words.

"Hmmmm," he hummed in feigned consideration, this time dragging both palms along her sides until reaching her arms, following them forward until he met her hands.

Draco moved back in front of her, tugging gently to remove her hands from the sink and instead holding them clasped between them.

"This wrist?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow as he held her gaze, slowly bringing her left hand up to his mouth and sucking gently against her pulse point.

Her mouth fell open in shock at how turned on she was by the gesture, sure that he could feel the spike of her heart rate from where her pulse beat between his lips. She felt frozen, unsure how to respond or even if she was capable of doing so.

Draco didn't seem perturbed by her lack of response, simply smirking at her before nipping lightly at the sensitive skin. She followed him automatically as he stepped away, pulling on her wrist to urge her to follow him out of the bathroom and back towards his room. It was still somewhat uncommon for her to be in his space, but she had no bandwidth to look around as he led her purposefully towards the bed.

His mouth met hers with a fierce determination. Her brain vaguely registered the familiar taste of whiskey as she tumbled backwards, his body following hers down against the mattress, easily pinning her with his weight. She met him move for move, kiss for kiss, frantically feeding the hunger she felt building inside her.

Her fingers scraped against the fabric of his shirt, tugging it upwards in a blatant bid for removal even as her lips mapped the sharp line of his jaw, catching it around his head. Draco chuckled at her frustrated moan, pushing her back against the bed as he sat up on his knees to discard the offending garment. He paused there for a moment, Hermione marveling at the way his chest moved up and down with his heavy breaths, the strength of his athletic body as he gazed down at her hungrily.

She reached up a hand, tentatively drawing him back against her and moaning as his mouth resumed its heady ministrations against her neck. It was hard to keep her thoughts in focus, but she did register the eager tugging at the tie of her robe, the feeling of his hands snaking up along her ribs to reach her breasts. The rough skin of his palms felt electric scraping over her sensitive flesh and a tiny mewl escaped her mouth.

" _Merlin_ I love having you in my bed," he growled out, nipping her earlobe.

The room spun as she felt his hands grab wildly at her hips, flipping their positions until she was settled atop him, legs splayed along either side of her stomach. Hermione fought the effort to hide her chest, her hands automatically rising to preserve her modesty before Draco caught them and secured them against her waist where her robe was now pooled. She felt more exposed than she had ever been, a blush spreading from the base of her neck all the way down her body to where her knicker-less core now rested directly on Draco's bare stomach.

She squirmed, a strong sense of vulnerability washing over her at his dark gaze. This movement seemed to trigger something in him, and she bit her lip at the way he tossed his head back and groaned, his hands pressing her more firmly down against him.

Their mutual arousal was more than apparent, his pressing against her back while hers leaked out helplessly against his abs. The feeling of being pressed together so intimately was almost more than she could bear, and in a flash of panic she realized how close they were to crossing a very significant line.

"Draco," she whispered, and there must have been a note of alarm in her voice because he nearly shot into a sitting position, his arms coming around her back to hold her securely against his chest.

"Granger, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, pressing forward to hide against his chest. She felt like such a prude all of a sudden, and feared that he would be mad.

"I just—I'm not ready to—you know. _Do_ that yet. Go all the way." Her voice was muffled against his skin, but that would just have to do since she felt too embarrassed to repeat herself.

It's not that she didn't _want_ to have sex, in fact her body wanted it very badly. And she trusted Draco, maybe even loved him if she let her tight emotional walls down far enough to consider such a possibility. But it was a big step, and with all of the uncertainty between them she wasn't sure what would happen to their relationship, or her heart, if they were to continue.

"Hey, hey ,hey," he murmured, running his fingers gently against her spine. "I wasn't angling for sex, Hermione, I promise."

She pulled back a bit, just enough to meet his eyes.

"Said every teenage boy ever," she countered, giving him a rueful look, her heart fluttering a bit at the sinful smirk he shot back at her.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, in lieu of a response. Hermione nodded, she did trust him, and he had never made her feel uncomfortable before.

"Are you open to a bit of exploring?" She quirked her eyebrow at that. "I'll keep my pants on, I promise," he winked.

Hermione gave a hesitant nod, not sure what he had in mind but her brain racing with the possibilities. His promise to keep his pants on seemed sincere, but she would be lying if she didn't admit that a tiny part of her was disappointed.

His hand curved against her cheek, tenderly drawing her mouth back to his and imparting a series of deep kisses against her lips. She relaxed against him, moaning as the heat between her legs leapt eagerly back to life. Draco allowed her to rock against him for a few minutes more, eventually using her momentum to tip her back against the mattress once more, her hair hanging slightly off the end of the bed.

By this point, her robe had all but fallen off, the soft fabric a forgotten heap that Draco smoothly shoved aside. It was scary, being this exposed, but Hermione was comforted when his eyes stayed locked on hers, even as his lips began trailing down her neck and to her chest. Her eyes squeezed shut at the first swipe of his tongue against her nipple, the sensation still so new and oh so welcome.

He took his time, alternating between biting nips and languorous licks, switching back and forth as his fingers made up the difference. She gripped his hair, not sure what else to do with her hands and needing something to keep her grounded amid the delicious sensation. She couldn't help but squirm, her body moving farther and farther off the bed until her head was practically hanging off the edge.

Draco's arm shot out to grasp her own, tugging her more firmly back onto the four-poster.

"C'mere. I'm not through with you yet, Granger."

He captured her lips in a bruising kiss as she clutched at his shoulders, eventually running a hand down his chest and to the waistband of his pants as their kisses increased in intensity. She loved the sound he made as she ran a finger along the ridges of his stomach, delighting in the way his body twitched against her.

It wasn't long until she felt his hand trailing down her side, pausing to squeeze at the curve of her ass before continuing to drag along her leg and back. The motion only served to stoke the flames growing inside of her, and it wasn't until she felt his fingers trailing back up the inside of her thigh that she gave pause.

"This okay?" he asked, pausing in his motion and pulling away from her slightly to look into her eyes.

Hermione bit her lip, nodding. If the wetness between her thighs was any indication, it was more than okay.

He kissed her again, _distracting her_? she wondered. She could feel his fingers inching higher and higher, eventually reaching that most private of places that no hand but hers had been. His touch was light, at first, just skimming her curls as he traced her outer lips. Hermione found herself holding her breath, not realizing what she was doing until she felt Draco chuckling against her neck.

"You can't pass out yet, Granger, my ego would have a field day," he teased.

In retaliation she bit his neck, the closest bit of skin she could reach, though this only seemed to spur him on as she felt his fingers slip more firmly against her, rubbing in a light but steady rhythm.

She felt hot all over, her moans joining Draco's heavy pants as he slowly increased his pressure. She knew this can't have been the first time he'd done this for a girl, he was no virgin after all, and her appreciation for his basic understanding of the female anatomy only increased as he pressed down purposefully against her clit.

"Draco!" she keened, eyes falling closed.

She was still on her back while he had essentially maneuvered to his side next to her, the places where their bodies connected becoming slick with sweat.

His hand shifted slightly, and she tensed when she felt the nudge of his finger pushing against her entrance.

"Relax, Granger," he soothed her, encouraging her with a sweet kiss.

She tried to heed his words, gasping at the feeling of his finger pressing inside her, so very different from her own. It was longer and thicker, and her hips bucked against his hand as he slid even further inside. He began a steady rhythm of push and pull, gradually building up speed in time to her moans.

Hermione felt a familiar sensation building inside her, though it was different when it was out of her control. His mouth had returned to her breast and his thumb to her clit, the combination driving her to tense every muscle she had as her body sought the release his was driving her towards.

She came with a small cry—hips jumping, hands clutching at his arms, head thrown back in pleasure.

Draco didn't retreat right away, his hand slowly coming to a stop as he kissed back up the column of her neck to find her mouth, cradling her head as he pulled her in towards him. She kissed him, not knowing the proper etiquette for how to thank your boyfriend for an orgasm, though it wasn't the first he had given her. As her mind began to clear, she realized there was a very obvious way to thank him, reciprocation must be the oldest move in the book. However, before she could begin to wrap her head around such a thought, Draco was moving.

"Where are you going?" She felt exposed by the cool air where his body had just been, bringing her arms up to wrap around her chest in a show of modesty.

"Don't go anywhere!" he called over, winking as he disappeared through his bedroom door.

Hermione flopped back against the sheets, confused and a bit hurt at suddenly being abandoned after such a momentous moment, to her at least. She saw her robe lying on the ground, quickly picking it up and slipping it back on.

 _What was he doing?_ She paced back and forth as she bit her lip, different emotions warring for dominance inside her. When embarrassment finally won out she made a dash for the door, planning to just escape to her room and lock herself in. Unfortunately she wasn't quick enough, bumping into Draco as he re-entered the room.

"Hey," she murmured, refusing to meet his eyes and instead focusing on the still-exposed planes of his chest.

"Sneaking out?" he chided, giving her an exasperated grin as he gripped her shoulders, turning her around and steering her back towards the bed. "I thought I told you to stay put?"

She glared at his teasing tone, though didn't protest as he lifted up the covers and beckoned her to crawl under.

"What were you doing?" she asked, pouting a bit as she sat cross-legged and watched as he sat back against his pillows, adjusting them a bit.

"I had to take care of something."

"Right then?" she pressed, feeling a spike of annoyance.

"Yes Granger. _Right_. _Then_." Draco replied, leaning over to press a chaste kiss against her mouth. He then settled down in the bed, tugging her in against his chest.

"What could you possibly have—oh." She cut herself off as it suddenly occurred to her what he must have been doing in the bathroom. She stayed silent for a minute, not sure how to continue the discussion in any sort of dignified way. "You could have…"

"Promised not to take my pants off," Draco grinned.

Hermione considered him for a moment, not sure what she was supposed to say. Her eyes were drawn involuntarily towards his hand resting on his stomach, remembering how just minutes ago it had been stroking her, and he must have used the same hand to…

"Right," she squeaked a bit, heat flooding her face at the images suddenly bombarding her mind. She sunk back down, curling against his side even as she hid her face in his chest.

Draco rolled over on his side, tucking her head under his chin and pulling her more firmly against him.

"You're beautiful, Granger," he murmured into her hair, and when Hermione drifted off several minutes later she still had a smile plastered across her face.

* * *

 _Lemons aren't my strong point, but still pretty fun to write ;-) Reviews always appreciated!_


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